


Invictus

by TigrisIgnis



Category: Lord of the Rings - Fandom, The Hobbit
Genre: AU, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-12-14 23:52:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 74,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11794068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TigrisIgnis/pseuds/TigrisIgnis
Summary: For international journalist Lana Rey the unreal becomes reality as she finds herself in a world not her own. Middle Earth is on the brink of war. A secret Fellowship of Nine quest to destroy an object of unbelievable power: The Ring of Sauron. The battle to find a way home is confounded by the need to survive as Lana struggles through a war unlike anything she has ever seen.





	1. An Encounter

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Mysterious Fate](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/315927) by Cormak3032. 



> Author's Note
> 
> Please Read FIRST
> 
> This is, in essence, a fan fiction of a fan fiction. The original "Mysterious Fate" written by the clever Cormak3032 was never completed. This is my version of her story, which I love dearly, and which I wanted to see finished. I started continuing her story five years ago out of the desire to see this wonderful fanfic have a conclusion. It has since grown as I've explored this story line further, expanded on the characters, and in some small ways made it my own. But this wouldn't have been possible with out Tolkien's beautiful creation, and Cormak's original idea. So for that I humbly bow and defer to them.
> 
> My version follows Cormak's story nearly to the letter until Chapter 37 where hers ended abruptly. (And on a cliff hanger! Oh the agony!)
> 
> All the credit for the idea, plot line, and dialogue belongs to Cormak until that point. I do not claim it. I have tweaked the story to suit my character Lana Rey. She fulfills my desire to see a strong but complicated and interesting female character in a fanfic. Lana does not resemble Cormak's Kaitlyn in anything other than plot line.
> 
> I highly recommend reading Cormak's original story.
> 
> I want to iterate again that I (and I would dare to say all) LOTR fan fiction writers bow down to the genius that is Tolkien. Middle Earth, its peoples, histories, languages, and characters are his. I just like playing there.
> 
> Lana Rey is a character of my own creation. She only bears resemblance to the singer Lana del Rey in a shared name, minus the "del".
> 
> This is a 10th Walker LOTR fanfic. It borrows from both the book and Peter Jackson film cannon.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please read the author's note for disclaimer and explanation of this story.
> 
> I make no claim to Tolkien's works. I also give credit to Cormak3032.

**Chapter 1: An Encounter**

The rumbling ceased with a finality made all the more frightening by the darkness that now enclosed them. It was like the sealing of a tomb. The only noise now came from their collective panting. Their hearts were pounding so furiously that they were certain the combined noise would echo throughout the mines.

Out of the pitch came a resigned voice. "Now we must face the long dark of Moria," spoke Gandalf the Grey.

Like a flare, a light on the end of the wizard's staff kindled. Within the radius of its glow, the frightened faces of a rag-tag company were revealed. Dazed and dismayed they looked to their leader for comfort and guidance but his face was set in grim lines. The resignation in the wizard's voice did little to dispel the dread that settled in their hearts.

"Quietly now!" He cautioned tersely. "It is a four day journey to the other side. Let us hope our presence goes unnoticed."

Collecting themselves, the Fellowship filed behind Gandalf. Their feet moved reluctantly but as the wizard had said, there was no choice now but to go forward into the gloom. They entered the bowels of the mountains, clinging to the scant light provided by Gandalf's staff.

Yet as they marched through the decrepit glory that was once the heart of Dwarfdom they could not help but wonder at its corroded majesty. Despite the gloom, a craftsmanship unlike anywhere else in Middle Earth was dimly revealed. The walls were masterfully carved and there was a sense of decayed grandeur. Gimli son of Glóin, the lone dwarf of the Fellowship, felt his heart swell first with pride as he looked upon the heritage of his kin. But great sorrow chased that pride—for all had fallen into decay and ruin.

Where were his kinsfolk?

The oppressing dark dampened even his indomitable spirit. Behind him, four hobbits looked about, captivated by everything they saw. Bred and born of rolling hills and simpler halls they never could have imaged a city such as this. All that they knew were Bilbo's tales of the Lonely Mountain far away in Erebor. Moria, it seemed, was much grander. Howbeit, the ancient city now was only a shell of its former splendor.

As for Boromir of Gondor, he felt a deep anger pool in his heart. If only they had gone _his_ way, they could have avoided this. The Gap of Rohan would surely have been safer than this treacherous path! His lips thinned as he marched. His eyes, while not as keen as an elf's, pierced the shadows distrustfully. The oppressive silence weighed heavily on his shoulders. Restless energy caused his fingers to drum on the white horn that hung opposite his sword.

His eyes shifted to Frodo. The hobbit shadowed Gandalf closely looking fearfully about. _As well he should!_ An irrational choler rose in his gullet startling him. This was not the first time he had felt strange since starting this journey. Unnerved he forced away the acrimonious feeling. Instead, he focused all his attention on their surroundings. It would not do to be caught unawares in this dark place.

The Dúnedain Ranger, Aragorn son of Arathorn, was resigned although he longed for a breath of fresh air and the light of day. He had walked many paths in his years—some better than others. But few of them led underground. He hoped that this trek into the dark would not turn into a nightmare. He trusted Gandalf to see them through. But even his unflappable nature was disturbed by the darkness, though he hid it better than the rest.

The lone elf in the group, who was fearless in the face of any adversity, felt oddly uneasy. The aberrant sensation was so foreign to Legolas Thranduilion that it caused him to walk rigidly. Although his father's halls were underground, they did not have the oppressive feeling of this place. His light eyes scoured the shadows even as his ears strained to hear any sound of danger. A warning nipped at his thoughts though he could not find a reason for it. And that in itself made his nerves jump.

Straining his senses he tried to pierce the gloom, but even his heightened abilities had limits. His fingers tightened around the Mirkwood bow in his hand causing his knuckles to stand out. But his face was smooth as glass, betraying nothing of his inner turmoil.

It was on their fourth day that Legolas heard something during one of their rests. Under the incessant whispering of Merry and Pippin, he heard it, a soft rhythm— _footsteps_.

Straightening, he peered into the darkness. Aragorn materialized over his shoulder.

_"Man hlardh?"_ The man whispered. _What do you hear?_

Their combined focus drew the attention of the Fellowship. Legolas shut out the whispers and shushes of the hobbits. Concentrating he singled out the soft noise that worried him.

"Something draws near," the elf murmured softly. "It moves with light steps."

"What could it be?" Sam asked worriedly. "Not goblins, I hope!"

Gandalf, unlike the rest, seemed deep in contemplation and completely unconcerned. Intent on his thoughts, he sent out his senses to determine what followed them. His lips drew together in a terse line.

Boromir put a hand on his sword. "We should drive it off, whatever it is."

Aragorn nodded in agreement. At his signal, Legolas lifted his bow and fitted an arrow to the string. The shaft flew in near silence. Whatever was tailing them let out a startled noise. It almost sounded like a terrified curse, which was followed by the scuffling sound of retreating steps.

The Fellowship looked at each other in confusion.

"That didn't sound like a goblin at all," Merry said rubbing his nose in bewilderment.

"It sounded like a maid!" Pippin added although he was just as baffled as his cousin.

The idea was preposterous. A woman in Moria? However, Aragorn and Legolas had already sprinted after their unknown shadow. Gandalf rose and followed after them but at a lesser pace. The light of his staff illuminated the dusty pathway.

He reached Aragorn and Legolas who each stood with weapons at the ready. Behind the wizard, the rest of the Fellowship crowded with wide eyes. Ahead in the dimness was a huddled form. A gleam flickered in the dark eyes.

"There is no need for those," Gandalf said gesturing for everyone to put their weapons down. "We have little to fear from this creature."

The seasoned warriors frowned but lowered their armaments, albeit warily. The hobbits looked on curiously, if not a little guardedly. Gandalf stepped ahead of the Ranger and Legolas. Surprising them all he smiled to the cowering figure.

"Come now, do not be frightened. Step into the light so that we may see you."

The hunched form remained motionless for a long moment as if debating the trustworthiness of Gandalf's words. Then slowly it rose and turned to face them. Still cautious in its movements it inched closer towards the light.

"It is a maid!" Pippin burst out.

He was right. To everyone's utter astonishment a strangely clad woman was revealed. She moved forward with extreme caution. She was clutching a satchel of some kind with Legolas' arrow protruding from it. A pale face marred with dirt stared defiantly at them. In her eyes was the look of a cornered animal, but there was cleverness in them as well. Intelligence moved behind the dark eyes. All but Gandalf stared in amazement.

"There now," the wizard said looking her over thoughtfully. "You are quite far from home."

She said nothing but stood defensively holding her pack in front of her like a shield. Legolas' arrow quivered with the minute movements she made.

Sam scratched his head. "But what is a maid doing here?"

"I would like to know the answer to that as well," Gimli muttered gruffly, hefting his battle ax.

The woman's eyes flickered first to the hobbit then to the dwarf. Fear was in her eyes but so too was a glint of obduracy. There was a fire in her look that defied the odds against her. She might be afraid, but she was no coward. They could see thoughts fomenting behind the wary mask she wore.

"You have nothing to fear from us," Gandalf said, capturing her attention once more. "You must forgive us our precautions, but this is a dangerous place. Come closer."

"Who are you?" Pippin blurted.

Gandalf gave the unruly hobbit a severe glance, but it was Gimli spoke up before the wizard could.

"And what are you doing in skulking in the shadows of my forefathers' halls?" He growled. "She must be one of Saruman's spies." He spat, grip tightening on his double-headed ax.

The woman's brows drew together even as she lifted her chin defiantly. "I am not a spy," she retorted, finding her voice. It was deeper than they expected, with a husky quality to it. But it was undeniably feminine.

"Then what are you doing here?" Boromir interjected. "Gandalf speaks truly. This is a dangerous place." The favorite son of Gondor scowled. He looked her over thoroughly, not bothering to hide his dislike for her. Never one to trust appearances, he felt distinctly unnerved by her sudden manifestation. The woman seemed helpless, but it could be a ruse.

Her eyes shifted to his hands, which gripped his broad sword tightly. She observed him guardedly, still holding her pack tight against her chest like a shield. As her eyes flickered over them all they lingered on the hobbits and Gimli. Her brows knit as if she couldn't figure them out. Then she shifted her gaze to rest on Legolas.

For a moment out of time, they stared at each other until her gaze slid to his ears. Her eyes widened a fraction more. A wave of her uncertainty hit the elf. It was potent and confusing. Covering his own puzzlement he gave her an imperious look. His father would have been proud.

"Your ears…" she murmured with a frown. Discomfiture settled onto her dirty features, and she seemed to withdraw from them though she made no outward movement.

Legolas lifted a brow. "I am an elf." He replied as if that explained everything.

The woman blinked and this time she took a half step back. Her face looked very pale then. Darting, her eyes took in his quiver poking out from over his shoulder and the large bow in his hands. She swallowed. Her attention then moved to the other various weapons displayed before her. Her head started to shake very slowly as if in denial.

Meanwhile, the hobbits had been busy chattering between themselves.

"She dresses very oddly," Frodo murmured quietly.

"What is she?" Sam asked. He felt the urge to shrink back when her eyes landed on him. She didn't look like an elf, but neither did she look like any kin of mankind.

"She is of the race of Men," Gandalf replied. His eyes had not left her even for a moment. "She wears strange garb because she is not of this realm…or time."

Hearing this, the woman's eyes snapped to his. Disbelief, bewilderment, and apprehension radiated from her.

"This…can't be…this is just…" She murmured under her breath still shaking her head like one dazed.

Only Legolas could hear her and he frowned sternly. He raked her over with his gaze. There was something about this woman…something that made his senses go on alert. The warning that had settled in his heart on their first day in the caverns tripled in intensity now. Never one to doubt his instincts he tested his bowstring surreptitiously. But she noticed the movement and slid one foot backward.

"How long have you been following us?" Aragorn demanded softly.

The Ranger also felt dubious about this woman. He sensed no evil from her, but… Her inexplicable appearance in this deserted place made him cautious. Questions raced through his mind, and while he trusted Gandalf explicitly, something was not right here. He watched a torrent of emotions flash in the woman's eyes. She looked just as baffled as he was.

"I haven't been following you." She spoke with the thin patience of one who had reached their limits. "I thought I was the only one here...Well," she cast an uneasy glance about. "The only _living_ one here."

At this Gimli grit his teeth. Did this female have no respect? He was about to speak but held his tongue when the Ranger spoke up once more.

"How did you get into the mines?" He demanded, as her answer was not sufficient enough for him.

"I don't know." She gripped her pack tighter. "I don't even know where _here_ is!" She insisted; her voice quivered with barely suppressed emotion. Anger welled up in her eyes along with the faint sheen of tears. Those she hastily forced back.

"You are in Moria…once the mightiest of the Dwarf kingdoms." Gandalf told her.

A single brow rose incredulously on her forehead. She repeated his words flatly, "Dwarf… _kingdoms?_ " Then she gave a most unladylike snort of disbelief. "Alright. Sure. And he's Spock's cousin." She nodded her chin in Legolas' direction.

The elf's frown deepened. He could tell by her tone that she was mocking him. His eyes narrowed in offense.

"How did you enter here? The doorway is shut," Aragorn asked again.

"I didn't come in through a door…" she replied, her irritation gave way to confusion.

"Then _how?"_ Boromir exacted suspiciously. "Women do not just appear in the middle of _nowhere_."

At this Gimli stiffened but remained silent. Boromir's words stung keenly. Moria was not a "nowhere" for him. Unaware of the stewing dwarf, Boromir continued with dangerous speculation. "Unless you are some sort of witch."

A flash of unexpected amusement appeared on the woman's lips. "Me? A witch?" She laughed, but it was humorless. "Oh, that's rich..."

Boromir bristled and the rest tightened their hold on their weapons. Perhaps she didn't realize it but her laughter sounded a bit unhinged.

"This is no laughing matter," Aragorn told her sternly. "These mines are a dangerous place—and no place for decent folk, let alone a maiden. Tell us how you came here. _Are_ you a sorceress?"

The wry mood left the woman's face. She looked visibly perturbed again, but she lifted her chin insolently.

"I am not a sorceress or a witch. I don't have any magic or special powers," she said with dry, exaggerated patience. "All I know is…" she paused. Her lips turned down as if she was trying to remember something fleeting.

"I was examining a very old dolmen and stone circle near the B-n-B I was staying at and…" she rubbed her temple as if her head pained her. "I think I fell asleep, which was odd...it didn't feel natural. But I remember hearing a voice…someone spoke to me."

Gandalf looked at her keenly. "Someone spoke to you?"

Her eyes met his. "Yes," she replied slowly. "It was a woman's voice, but I don't remember what she said. Then I…then I was here." She seemed unsure of her own story.

Looking back at Aragorn she added. "I was just trying figure out where I was and how to get out of here. I saw the light and I thought it was the way out. I wasn't expecting to meet anyone. And I certainly wasn't expecting to have _arrows_ shot at me." She gave Legolas a dirty look.

He stiffened under her glare. "We did not know what approached," he retorted defensively.

"Does that give you the right to start firing off like some trigger-happy idiot?" She snapped. "I'm completely unarmed."

Legolas felt his ire rise. His eyes narrowed dangerously.

"How were we to know that?" Aragorn interjected quickly, coming to the elf's defense.

"Well I, for one, believe a 'shoot first' policy is a bad idea in _any_ situation." She quipped sardonically.

Gandalf took charge of the conversation before tempers were lost. "How long have you been wandering in the dark?"

Out of all of them, he was the only one who had remained calm. As the others interrogated her, he sent out his senses to discern more about this foreigner. The more he probed stranger she became to him. But there was no evil about her, of that he was certain. What he did sense was a great sorrow and a resilient spirit.

"I have no idea," she shrugged her shoulders. Shifting her pack over one shoulder she crossed her arms.

"How long do you think?" Boromir grilled sarcastically.

She gave him a look of annoyance. "One, two days? I really _don't_ _know_." She emphasized her last words mordantly.

The Fellowship murmured between themselves. They didn't know what to make of her. This was by far one of the most bizarre encounters they've had, and they had experienced quite a few already. The woman appeared exasperated and she ran a hand through the shaggy locks that had fallen on her face.

"Look, I've had enough of this," she said rolling her eyes. "Can I just please wake up now?" She seemed to be imploring some higher power in bitter frustration.

Gandalf's lips thinned. "You _are_ awake."

Immediately she shook her head. "No. This is a dream. I am dreaming. It is the only logical explanation."

Frodo had remained mostly silent throughout the whole exchange. But intrigued he now spoke up. "Why do you say that?"

He nearly flinched when her eyes came to rest on him. Without realizing his actions his hand gripped the front of his shirt, which hid the burden that hung around his neck.

"Because there is no other logical explanation. Mines? Dwarves and elves?" She looked pointedly at Gimli then Legolas. She missed the duel frowns from those two at having been lumped together in her diatribe.

"None of this is real. It's all just fairy tales," she said with conviction.

Legolas stared at her frostily. He was still offended by her words and her latest proclamation did not make his opinions rise in her favor. Unknowingly, Gimli felt the same.

"What about hobbits?" Pippin piped up eagerly.

Her face became puzzled again as she stared at him, her nose wrinkling slightly as she thought. Then she shrugged. "I'm sorry, but I've never heard of a hobbit before."

Pippin seemed to deflate but Merry interjected. "We're sometimes called Halflings, even child-folk by the Big People. Are you certain you haven't heard of us?"

She just shook her head. "No. Sorry. I…I just really don't understand what's going on." She ran an agitated hand through her hair again. "I'm having trouble believing that this could be _real._ " She gestured ambiguously to everything around her.

"We are indeed real," Gandalf stated. "Very real in fact. As is this place that you find yourself in," he told her firmly but kindly. "It will be difficult for you to grasp this now. But you are very far from your home…and time."

Everyone looked to Gandalf in awe. He always seemed to know much more than what could be seen.

"My time?" The woman repeated flatly. "What are you saying? That I've fallen through a wormhole or something?" She gave him a skeptical face looking highly unimpressed.

"Worm-hole?" Pippin echoed looking completely baffled. "How could anyone fall through one of those?"

The woman lifted a brow at him. Then she sighed. "Look, just tell me how I get back home—to _my_ home." Apparently, she was resigned to the fact that she had to "play" along. The only way to win this dream-game was to go by the rules.

"You cannot," Gandalf said simply.

She lifted a brow. "What do you mean I _cannot_?"

"It is not possible."

Anger flared up within her and the vitriolic tone of her voice grew. "What do you mean 'it's not possible'?"

"Keep your voice down, woman!" Boromir hissed. "You'll alert every orc in Moria to our whereabouts!"

She gave him a heated look before glaring at Gandalf again. "You cannot keep me here! My family, friends—my job—my whole life is back _there._ " She explained with fraying patience.

"You are right. We cannot make you stay here." Gandalf told her. Hope sparked to life in the woman's eyes but it was instantly snuffed out. "You can continue to wander about in the dark until some evil creature finds you and ultimately you are sent to an untimely death."

The woman balked at that.

"We do not have the ability to send you home, nor does anyone that I know," Gandalf explained unaffectedly. He leaned on his staff observing her thoughtfully. "Fate has brought you here for a reason, though what that reason is, I cannot say. However, you will live and die in this world. Of that I am certain." His tone was sympathetic, but he knew there would be little comfort for this lost creature.

The woman gaped at him then shut her mouth tightly. A pertinacious fire sparked behind her eyes and the wizard wondered at it. He sensed that under her fear and uncertainty laid a deep-rooted courage and a strong will that had been iron forged. At the moment she locked gazes with him as if trying to do battle with his will. He could see that she was trying to reconcile with his words. Stubbornly she continued to cling to the notion that she was in a dream. He could see it in the way she set her emotions aside or tried to at least.

"We cannot linger here. You will come with us," he declared.

The Fellowship looked at each other uncertainly.

"This is folly! Bringing a maid with us is unwise," Boromir protested.

"What would you do, son of Denethor? Leave her here to fend for herself?" Gandalf challenged. "Luck was with her for her to have survived in the dark alone for as long as she has. She will travel with us and fate will determine what is to be done with her. But all things in due course!"

"Can you fight?" Aragorn turned and asked her.

"Uh, you mean with swords and arrows?" She asked looking at their medieval weapons dubiously. "No." Her jaw tightened.

Aragorn frowned. This did not bode well for them. A woman who could not defend herself in the darkness of Moria would be a liability.

"She will need to be taught," Gandalf said, interrupting the man's thoughts. "A time will come when she will need to defend herself and others." He gave Aragorn a meaningful look.

"Defend myself? From _what?_ " The woman asked cynically.

"From creatures that would have you dead for no other reason than for the pleasure of watching your blood spill," Aragorn told her with rancor.

A look of fear bloomed on her face, but it was followed by a shadow of something the Ranger did not understand. Nor did he have the time to ponder it.

"You should be frightened," he pushed her. "You have no idea what dangers await us."

To his surprise, she said, "I will face whatever comes my way." Her tone was implacable. "I always have."

Surprised but pleased to hear this, Aragorn gave her a short nod. However, he very much doubted that her bravery would remain when faced with any real danger. One look at her and it was clear: she was no warrior.

"We must go," Gandalf announced.

With that, he turned with a _swoosh_ of gray robes.


	2. A Journey Into the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please read author's note and disclaimer.
> 
> I own nothing of Tolkien's works nor do I claim to. Credit also belongs to Cormak3032.

 

* * *

**Chapter 2:** **A Journey Into The Dark**

"What's your name?" Pippin asked, breaking the silence a short while later.

They had been walking for some five minutes and despite the dour atmosphere, he couldn't help but be curious about their newest companion. She was the strangest maiden he had ever seen and all his Tookish inquisitiveness bubbled forth.

She didn't wear a dress or skirt, but trousers made of some sort of thick blue material. She wore a short over-tunic of blue and green plaid. It was unbuttoned and under it was a black undershirt. On top of this was a burgundy fleece-lined jacket with a hood. There appeared to be some lettering stitched on the front, but he couldn't make out what it said.

The garments would certainly offend those of strict sensibilities; who ever heard of a maid wearing clothes meant for men? But for Pippin, they only fueled his nosiness. He surmised that she must be fair of face, but it was hard to tell in the gloom. She was dirty like the rest of them, but he ventured to guess that she had light brunette hair. Her eyes were dark, but not brown.

When those dark eyes turned on him they lost some of their aloof quality. "My name is Lana…Lana Rey."

"I'm Peregrin Took, at your service, milady," he introduced with a smile. "But you can call me Pippin." He was delighted to see an answering smile curve her lips. She was very pretty when she smiled he decided. "This is Merry," he said pointing to his cousin. "And that's Frodo and Sam."

"Lana Rey," Merry said, trying it out. "That's an interesting name. Where are you from?"

"I live…uh… _lived,_ " she restated with a displeased grimace and glanced at Gandalf's back. "In London. But I grew up in California."

Merry frowned thinking. "Never heard of those places. Have you, Pip?"

Pippin frowned thoughtfully. Then he exhaled, his cheeks puffing, and shook his head. "Where is that near?"

"Uhm…" she seemed to struggle with what to say. "California is in the US and London is in the UK."

"I'm not familiar with those places," Merry said apologetically.

"Me neither," Pippin concurred.

Lana sighed imperceptibly. "I guess you wouldn't be." Her voice trailed off.

Sensing her despondency the two hobbits continued to engage her in conversation. They told her about the Shire with its green hills and verdant farms; they told her about their families, their family histories and so on. Eventually Sam joined in the conversation. He was, after all, very knowledgeable about such matters as family histories.

Lana became very lost very quickly, but she asked all the appropriate questions and did her best to keep track of names, places, and lineages. And it did keep her mind off of her present situation. It was plain to her that family history was _exceptionally_ important to hobbits. Along with food. And pipe weed.

Her stomach grumbled at the thought of food, and she frowned. Grimacing she returned her attention to the hobbits. But her attention was divided between them and the murmuring of the rest of the company. Behind her she could hear the dark-haired Aragorn speaking softly to the elf. As she listened she fingered the arrow in her hand.

She had yanked it out of her backpack earlier. The contents inside were relatively unharmed. But her notebook and copy of _Everything Is Illuminated_ were utterly ruined. The arrow had managed to pierce all the way into the cover of her sketchbook, but the leather cover had stopped it from going further. The surface was dented a bit, and pierced in the center of the depression, but otherwise none worse for wear.

She made a wry face. It was those very books that had saved her life. Had they not been in there, that arrow would have pierced right through. And killed her.

At that idea she had a very uncharitable thought about the elf. As it crossed her mind, her fingers gripped the arrow as if she intended to break it in half. But she didn't—partly because the wooden shaft was far stronger than she originally thought, and also because she wasn't sure what the elf would do if she _did_ break it. He hadn't asked for it back, but she wasn't about to return it willingly.

Out of everyone in the group he gave her the most severe creeps. There was just something about him that made all the hair on her body stand on end. It was like standing near an electrical wire. His presence made her blood hum and her skin tingle. And she feared that if she got too close he would shock her like a live-wire.

Listening covertly she tried to eavesdrop on what they were saying behind her. She frowned when she realized that she couldn't understand them. Her brain raced trying to match the sounds to the languages that she knew, but nothing fit.

"What language are they speaking?" She asked the hobbits discreetly.

"Elvish," Sam informed her. "Strider can speak it very well, but that's because he used to lived with them."

"He's practically Elvish himself!" Merry said. "You have to admit that he does have that Elvish sense about him."

"Who's Strider?" Lana asked, confused now.

"Oh! That's Aragorn, but we call him Strider," Pippin offered. "He's speaking to Legolas—who _is_ an elf, of course."

She nodded, though she wasn't sure if she really understood any of this. "And who is that?" She asked in undertone nodding towards the man who walked ahead with Gandalf.

"That's Boromir. He's from Gondor. His father is the Steward there," Merry said.

"And the, ah…dwarf?"

"Gimli, son of Glóin," Merry supplied.

"That's the same Glóin who was with Bilbo on his adventures," Pippin added.

"Pippin! She doesn't even know who Bilbo is!" Merry chided exasperated by his cousin's foolishness.

This led into an extensive explanation of who Bilbo was and how he knew Glóin. This lasted for nearly thirty minutes.

"But Frodo is the one who should really tell you the story. He is Bilbo's nephew after all."

Lana glanced ahead to where the dark haired hobbit walked. He kept close to Gandalf as if needing to stay in his shadow. There was something peculiar about him—not like the elf, but something _strange_ , for lack of a better word. It was like a scent that comes and goes too quickly for the mind to place. The sensation was curious but she wasn't all that interested in understanding it. It was only a passing feeling anyway.

At the moment her mind was still refusing to acknowledge any of this. It was easier to just ignore the outrageousness of it all. Instead, she imaged that she was on assignment with a film crew shooting some weird sci-fi flick. It was a simple way to trick herself into accepting dwarves and elves, and now hobbits.

"So, where are we going?" She asked once the hobbits stopped to breathe. No one had said a word to her about their destination or why they were traveling through this network of caves. It obviously was not a place with a lot of traffic.

Immediately all conversations died around her. She glanced about confused. Everyone was giving her guarded looks, or not looking at her at all.

"Did I…say something…wrong?" She asked carefully watching their reactions.

"Everything will reveal itself in its own proper time," Gandalf informed her.

She gave him an exasperated look. "And why can't the right time be now?" She challenged.

The Fellowship was agog. Merry and Pippin were unsuccessfully trying to hide their snickering. No one would dare question Gandalf like that! Lana was very bold for a woman.

The wizard merely lowered his brows, assessing her. Far from obtuse, Lana quickly put the puzzle together. "Ah. I see. You don't trust me."

"We don't know you," Sam told her honestly.

"And there are many things you do not understand," Aragorn spoke up from behind her.

"Yeah well no kidding," she interjected caustically.

"You must have patience," Gandalf counseled her from ahead. "Too much information is a dangerous thing. Especially to someone from another realm," he told her meaningfully.

She lifted a brow. It was like he was purposely baiting her. Where she came from free access to information was a given right, and she had very strong opinions about censorship. Who were they to deny her information? Debating on how far she could push them, she forged ahead delicately.

"Then this must be a dire mission you all are on."

Quietly she wondered if this society was repressive towards women. Perhaps it wasn't a lack of trust, but a belief that because she was a woman she wouldn't understand the complexity of their journey. Based on the odd looks and comments she had endured so far, she determined she must be in some sort of medieval dream or something. And she guessed that women were not empowered in this world. Although she had yet to met any females of any kind.

 _If I_ am _dreaming then I would change this immediately,_ she thought. Then she tried her theory and attempted to will another woman into being. Nothing happened though.

"Do not fear," Gandalf said interrupting her thoughts. "You are in good company here."

_Am I?_

She gave the grey wizard a skeptical look. He held her gaze unerringly. Quite aberrantly she decided that she could trust _him_. Out of everyone in this strange company he seemed the most…well, approachable. She sensed something from Gandalf that was difficult to define. In his eyes there seemed to be immeasurable wisdom and he exuded a sort of peaceful confidence that made her _want_ to trust him.

And that was weird; but needing to feel some sort of comfort she went with her gut.

It was clear to her that he was highly respected within the group. Most elders were, she knew. And if he really _was_ a wizard, well…all the more reason to watch out and stay on his good side. She didn't relish the idea of being turned into a bat or something. She tried to picture the old man before her doing such a thing. It wasn't too far fetched. Still, he emitted a comforting aura that reminded her of a grandfather figure in some ways.

Still holding her gaze he gestured for her to walk beside him. Smiling wanly she excused herself Merry and Pippin, she moved ahead to join the wizened old man.

Looking him over carefully, she asked, "Are you _really_ a wizard?"

He chuckled softly. "I am called such by many. And I have many names in many tongues, but I am called Gandalf here. Gandalf the Grey."

She lifted a brow but echoed his smile. "Well, I never thought I would ever meet an honest-to-goodness wizard."

While she tried to keep her humor up, it was difficult. A nagging feeling of sadness and lingering confusion hovered over her like a storm cloud. And it seemed to threat a downpour on her at any moment.

Not typically emotional, she felt set a drift and was finding it difficult to cope with everything. She couldn't understand how she ended up here and her brain raced with all that she knew about parallel universes. Unsurprisingly it wasn't much. Science fiction had more to say about such things than real science.

And predictably, she felt far from safe. Her mind kept racing from one plausible explanation to the next. Over and over she went through her memory trying to account for all... _this_. But she wasn't satisfied with any of her conclusions.

The events that occurred before arriving here were a rather hazy. She replayed her trip to the ancient stones over and over in her head, and desperately tried to recall the voice, but it was useless. It was like someone dipped their hand into her memories and stirred them up, as when a child splashes in the shallows of a pool. Everything was indistinct.

She frowned. Perhaps she had finally lost it. At last the stress of her job had broken her mind. Maybe her body was lying next to those stones while her brain conjured up this fantasy. _I wonder if I put my meds in my backpack._

"Keep your chin up and do not despair." Gandalf said disrupting her thoughts. "I am quite certain that there is a reason for us crossing paths."

Lana exhaled heavily and met his eyes for a moment. "Well, if you know the reason then please tell me, because none of this any makes sense." She kicked a loose stone from her path. It clicked off the wall echoing dully.

"I'm here _against_ my will—and I have no idea how this happened, or why I'm here. I have no idea where we are even _going_ ," she looked at him pointedly. "And I hardly know anything about who I'm with. There are just a hell of a lot of unknowns here." She gave him a dry smile that was completely devoid of humor.

"The time will come for you to learn all that. But it is not now," he repeated. "We must concentrate on leaving Moria."

She blew out a breath. "And how long will that take?"

"Another day at least."

"Shit."

Gandalf lifted his brows at her.

"Sorry," she mumbled. "It's habit—and I know. Not very 'ladylike.'" She gestured with quote-fingers.

Surprisingly, Gandalf chuckled. "I think it goes without saying that you are a very _unique_ lady."

Her expression shifted into one of amusement. Clearly he didn't know the half of it, or so she thought. But what she didn't realize was that he already had a good idea of her character. Whatever powers brought her here he felt that her strengths would be valuable. He sensed that she had many amiable qualities. And something else told him that she was invaluable but for what reason he couldn't yet discern.

They continued on until Gandalf halted at a crossroads. He stood on a landing and pondered three different routes that lay before them. Looking between them he frowned.

"I have no memory of this place."

With a huff he sat down on a large rock and pulled out his pipe. No one complained. Everyone desired a break—everyone that is, except Legolas. He never seemed to tire.

Lana snuck a glance at the fair being. He seemed to glow. This made her wonder if her hunger was getting to her. Honestly, now that she thought about it, it felt like her stomach just might start eating her spine. She resolved to ignore her bodily pains—just like this whole fandangle situation. It wasn't real…right?

All of them reclined on the wide stairs that led up to the landing with three paths. They kept back, allowing Gandalf room to contemplate their route in peace. Pippin immediately began talking about food, much to Lana's dismay.

"Quiet! Gandalf's thinking!" Merry admonished Pippin after a moment.

"But Merry, I'm _hungry._ "

A small muffled sound was heard in the quiet and Pippin glanced at Lana. "She's hungry too!"

Mortified Lana felt her face heat. At least the lighting was poor. No one could see her blush. Distracting herself she idly drew in the dust with the arrow she still held. She didn't realize that the elf was staring at her from behind.

"Well she hasn't eaten in days I'd wager," Merry reminded him, talking as if she couldn't hear him.

"We should feed her, and us too," Pippin reasoned.

"I had a little food, but not much," Lana said, recalling the half eaten chocolate bar in her backpack. "I had no idea I was going to be traveling through a cave for days." Her attempt at levity ended up sounding rather sarcastic.

" _Mine_. It's a mine," Gimli told her in annoyance.

"Ok, mine. Sorry," she told him flatly.

He sent her a grim look, which she held for a moment. She didn't know what to make of him, and he certainly had no idea what to think of her! She was a very queer woman. The fact that she had been wandering around his kinsman's halls disturbing their peace rankled him.

For her part, Lana couldn't decide if the dwarf was truly as testy as he acted or if he was grieving the loss of his people. Although the skeletons she had seen looked to be very old. But memory runs long. She of all people knew this very well.

Leaning toward the idea that the dwarf was just always cantankerous, her lips quirked. Disney didn't quite get the look of a grumpy dwarf, she thought.

During the hours she had been with this odd collection of people she had noticed certain things about them. For example, Boromir was not shy in sending her distrusting glares. He looked her over as if she were a stray animal—an unwelcome tagalong. The sneering glances he gave her were grating on her frayed patience, but she held her tongue. For now.

The hobbits for the most part seemed to have few inhibitions and appeared keen to befriend her, despite her own standoffish mood. The only exception was Frodo, but then he seemed to distance himself from everyone.

The relationship between Gimli and Legolas was the most curious however. When they weren't busy giving her frosty looks they were glowering at each other. Gimli was particularly prickly towards the elf. Legolas in turn was very icy towards him. She wondered what the cause of their rivalry could be. It was not lost on her that they seemed to instigate each other. But their enmity was a mystery to her. It was held thinly in check, and she supposed it was for the greater cause of their "secret" mission.

Feeling eyes upon her, she looked up to see that the elf watching at her. An uneasy feeling settled in her stomach. At the same time every single hair on the back of her neck stood straight up. Her heart started beating erratically and she felt her hands start to sweat. Alarmed and confused by her reaction to his mere glance she hurriedly dropped his gaze.

She only looked up again when Frodo darted up the steps towards Gandalf. He spoke in hushed voice that still carried. "There's something down there!" The hobbit told him earnestly.

"It's Gollum," Gandalf replied seemingly unperturbed.

"Gollum?" Frodo voiced her own question.

"He's been following us for three days." Gandalf replied.

"He escaped the dungeons of Barad-dûr?"

"Escaped? Or set loose?"

Their hushed voices were then lost to her. Shifting on the hard stone step she exhaled morosely.

"You are frightened," Boromir stated baldly. "You don't hide it as well as you think."

Lana met his unfriendly gaze. The man had a hard line around his mouth. Unlike the elf or the other man, Boromir seemed to be a boiling kettle. He simmered and his gaze licked over her heatedly. It was not in a suggestive way either. This man clearly had an issue with her.

And he was a bit of a puzzle to her, as he seemed rather isolated compared to the rest of the group. Narrowing her eyes she lifted her chin.

"What good is it to show fear?" She flung back at him.

The man merely stared at her as if waiting for something. _Maybe he thinks I'll finally produce a broom and go flying off!_

Aragorn puffed on his pipe and then said, "What is your world like?"

Lana pivoted to face him. "My world?" It felt strange to say that. "It's very different from this," she looked about wryly. "I wouldn't know where to begin."

Indeed! How could she even begin to explain cars, radio, television, computers—the internet! These people carried bows and knives. The most advanced device would have to be Gandalf's glowing staff.

"Are you married?" Pippin asked seemingly out of nowhere.

"What?" She gave him a startled look.

He pointed to the ring she wore. The large triangle-cut turquoise hardly qualified as a wedding band! But it wasn't the only ring she wore at the moment.

"Oh no," she said with a dry laugh. "I'm not married."

"Doesn't surprise me," Boromir quipped.

She shot him a dark look.

"Does your ring mean anything then?" Merry asked curiously.

She shook her head. "No. They're just adornments; just for looks."

"So if you're not married, then what did you do in your home?" Merry probed, now intrigued.

"You mean my job?" The hobbits glanced at each other then nodded. Clearly, "job" was not a commonly used word. "Well, I'm a journalist."

Several confused faces looked at her.

"What's a journalist?" Sam asked.

"It's a person who reports on news. They go out and get stories about what's going on in the world. They can cover everything from politics, to business, economics, sports, entertainment…" She trailed off, as it seemed she had lost them. They looked even more befuddled.

"You don't have journalists here?"

The hobbits shared a look then Merry said, "Not really. There _are_ plenty of well informed hobbits at home, but mostly we just go to the pub and hear any news there is there."

It made sense, Lana thought. Clearly their society had not developed the role of journalism in this world yet. News traveled from neighbor to neighbor through gossip and hearsay.

"What kind of news did you report?" Aragorn asked joining the conversation.

Lifting her eyes she met the Ranger's steadily. "I was a war correspondent."

There was silence, except for the soft murmurings of Gandalf and Frodo.

"That…sounds rather unpleasant." Sam grimaced.

"Journalism isn't about pleasantness. It's about informing the public to what's going on; and it's about holding governments accountable for their actions. War is never pleasant, but my role and the role of the other correspondents is crucial."

"Did you run messages to your king and his armies?" Pippin asked innocently.

Lana shook her head. "We don't have a king where I come from."

This generated more interest, but she quickly explained that she was independent from any government. She refused to work for any political body. And she didn't want to delve into democracies or republics at this time.

"My job was to get as unbiased views as possible of what was happening on the ground." Here she made a mordant face. "Essentially, when people were running the other way to escape a warzone, I was the one running _in_."

"That hardly sounds like a job for a maiden," Boromir cajoled nastily.

Lana spun to face him. "And just what is your problem is with women?" She said losing her temper.

"I have no problem with most of them," he replied meeting her gaze head on. Then he made a perusal of her entire appearance. "It's the ones who are self-righteous and think they can act like a man that I have trouble with. They don't know their place."

Lana's eyes narrowed and a dangerous air surrounded her. "What _exactly_ are you implying?"

"Nothing, fair _lady,_ " he taunted with spurious saccharine sentiment.

Lana raked him over with her gaze as if she could pick the flesh from his bones with merely a look. "I can tell that we're going to get along _famously,"_ she scoffed.

"We shouldn't be quarrelling amongst ourselves," Aragorn interjected before anything could escalate.

But that didn't stop Lana from shooting Boromir a nasty look. Aragorn saw it and frowned. She would be a force to be reckoned with once she was trained.

"Ah! It's that way!"

Everyone looked up at Gandalf's words.

"He's remembered!" Merry replied with a grin.

"No, but the air doesn't smell so foul down here," Gandalf smiled at the young hobbit. "When in doubt, always follow your nose."

Lana snorted lightly with humor. Legolas glanced her way questioningly, but she shook her head and moved quickly behind the hobbits. She was not about to even try to explain children's cereal commercials to an _elf_.

She followed the glow of Gandalf's staff into the darkness. The passageway opened up and she felt the air change. It was cooler and there seemed to be a slight breeze.

Gandalf lifted his staff a little. "Let me risk a little more light…"


	3. Khazah-dûm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please read the author's note for disclaimer and explanation of this story.
> 
> I make no claim to Tolkien's works. I also give credit to Cormak3032.

 

* * *

**Chapter 3: Khazah-dûm**

"Behold! The great realm of the dwarf-city of Dwarrowdelf." Gandalf's voice echoed off the boundless expanse that stretched before them.

"Well, there's an eye opener at no mistake." Sam murmured in awe.

The whole Fellowship looked around in astonishment. Great pillars soared like trees. These were intricately carved with geometric patterns. They disappeared into a ceiling high above, lost in the gloom where the light couldn't reach. The room was massive and the light from Gandalf's staff could hardly penetrate the pressing darkness. It surely must have been a sight when it was filled with light and dwarves.

Quietly they moved on, trailing after Gandalf. As they passed a pillar, Lana could not resist reaching out and touching it. The base was as large as a redwood tree, if not larger! Orderly patterns were carved into the rock. Her fingers felt the indentations of a script as well. Peering at it, she saw that they were runes.

"'Tis a wonder, is it not?" Gimli said gruffly, appearing at her elbow.

Startled, Lana glanced at the short, bearded dwarf. His eyes held a gleaming pride, but it was subdued. He placed a hand on the stone as well as if touching a friend. And suddenly she understood. This sadness she knew. It was the same feeling she felt whenever she visited Newgrange, or Ephesus, or Rome. A sense of deeply rooted kinship with a past now irrevocably lost.

She offered him a sedated smile. "It is."

His brown eyes gleamed as if he too felt the sudden connection between them. He gave her a nod then moved ahead.

A tingling sensation on the back of her neck caused Lana to look over her shoulder. The elf's luminous eyes met hers. Something was reflected there that she could not decipher. As usual, his face was a blank mask no warmer than the cold stone under her hand. Unconsciously her fingers tightened around the arrow she still held.

Turning back around she picked up her pace. Still, despite herself, she could not help but wonder at what stirred beneath that stoic façade he wore.

Ahead there was a sliver of light and the hearts of the company lifted. Perhaps this was the way out! With an inarticulate exclamation, Glóin's son darted ahead.

"Gimli!"

But the dwarf ignored Gandalf's call and ran ahead to the illuminated doorway. They followed him quickly—eagerly.

It wasn't an exit. A chill descended on the group as they entered the room. The light was from a window situated high on the opposite wall. Its brightness temporarily blinded them. Yet as they adjusted they saw the bones: skeletons left as they had died.

"No…No…" Gimli was kneeling before a large stone table.

Lana abruptly realized as she stepped further into the room that it wasn't a table at all. It was a tomb.

The dwarf's grief was palatable. The hobbits traded wide-eyed glances, while the men and elf looked on grimly. Lana was no stranger to grief and she lowered her eyes. No matter how many times she witnessed it, the pain of another never got easier to bear. Memories marched across her mind's eye of the deaths she had witnessed.

Gandalf meanwhile had stepped up to the tomb. Removing his pointed hat he read the engraving etched into the tomb's surface.

"Here lies Balin, son of Fundin, Lord of Moria. He is dead then," the wizard sighed gravely. Gimli wept harder. "It's as I feared." Gandalf looked about, his face one of sorrow and dread.

Stale cold death was everywhere. Realizing how close she was to one skeleton, Lana took a step to the side. Legolas glanced at her as she moved unconsciously closer to him. Her face was unreadable to him, but he sensed that death was not foreign to her. A well of emotions moved beneath the surface of her drawn face and he wondered what the look she wore now meant. His lips pulled into a frown.

But then Gandalf stole his attention as the wizard picked up discarded book. He blew the dust off and then cracked it open. The book groaned painfully before revealing its contents.

Stepping behind Lana, Legolas moved closer to Aragorn. "We must move on. We cannot linger."

Aragorn's worried face looked at him and he almost said something but was silenced by Gandalf's voice.

"They have taken the bridge, and the second hall," he read. "We have barred the gates, but cannot hold them for long." A dread settled over the company as the old wizard read.

"The ground shakes…drums…drums in the deep. We cannot get out. A shadow moves in the dark." The level of dread rose filling the room. All was silent except for Gandalf's voice. "We cannot get out." He paused and then looked up at them all grimly. "They are coming."

A sudden noise echoed off the walls. Pippin jumped back from the skeleton he had been inspecting. The old bones slumped on the edge of a well. Its head was missing, having just fallen off. It bounced down the well, clattering on its way down. The hobbit tried to look innocent but it was clear that he had done something that disturbed the body.

Slowly the skeleton began to shift and then it too fell down the well making a terrible racket. Pippin grimaced each time the bones struck something on the way down. When it was finally quiet again everyone waited, then after several tense moments there was a collective sigh of relief.

"Fool of a Took!" Gandalf barked as he slammed the book closed. "Throw yourself in next time and rid us of your stupidity!"

He snatched his hat and staff from the abashed hobbit. Lana would have felt sorry for him if she weren't still trying to catch her racing heart. She swore mentally trying to recover her composure.

Just then there was a sound; a deep _doom!_ from somewhere in the depths of the well. Pippin's eyes widened and Gandalf slowly turned back towards the well.

It sounded again. And again…and again It sounded like discordant drums—more like a signal than a steady beat.

_Drums in the deep…_

The entire Fellowship shifted, antsy with anxiety. Boromir rushed to the door and peered out. More pounding was followed by noises that didn't sound like humans or animals. It was more like a strange shrieking-squealing sound. With it came a more metallic clattering like the sound of metal plates clashing together.

 _Or armor…_ Lana realized as she turned to stare at the doorway. Her attention was diverted as Sam called to Frodo suddenly. The dark-haired hobbit unsheathed his sword, which was glowing a bright blue. Lana's mouth fell open but before she could make sense of it Legolas cried out in a snarl.

_"_ _Yrch!"_

Lana looked to Merry, completely mystified.

"Not good," he uttered uneasily.

Two black arrows suddenly embedded into the wooden doorframe. If Boromir hadn't had the reflexes of a deer, he would have been impaled right there.

"Get back!" Aragorn commanded the hobbits. He grabbed Lana by the arm and jerked her after them. "Stay close to Gandalf!"

Lana stared at him with wide eyes. What was happening? What are orcs? Was this an attack? The questions sped through her mind as she tried to gain her footing over the debris on the floor. She moved quickly behind the wizard even as the rest of the Fellowship prepared for battle.

Aragorn dashed to help the Gondorian pull the massive doors closed.

"They have a cave troll," Boromir groaned in exasperation.

As they barracked the doors with wooden beams, Legolas tossed axes and spears to the men. These were wedged into the frame, further fortifying the doors. Lana was distracted again as Gandalf tossed his pointed hat to the ground. He picked up a dusty sword that a corpse had been holding and thrust it at her. She dropped the arrow in her hand as the sword was pushed into her fingers.

"Use this. You will need it."

Lana's eyes grew wide. "But!"

"No buts!" He gripped her hands as she held the weapon uncertainly. "Use that courage you buried deep!"

His blue eyes suddenly seemed to hold a wisdom deeper than time itself. Leaving her, he moved in front of the hobbits and unsheathed his long sword. Lana blinked from the sudden severance of Gandalf's eyes. Dazed she shook her head.

Gimli surged up on top of his kinsman's tomb. "Let them come!" He growled. "There is yet one dwarf in Moria who still draws breath!"

The doors shook as their enemy barged against them. Dust fell in clouds with each impact. Aragorn, Legolas, and Boromir took a stance nearest the door. Boromir held his sword and shield ready, while the Ranger and elf stood firm with bows in their hands. The hobbits were huddled behind Gandalf and Gimli, weapons held ready. Gimli's large battle ax gleamed wickedly in the light.

Behind them all stood Lana with a sword in her hands and her heart in her throat. She shivered each time the doors vibrated. With each pound she grimaced. Unwanted memories surfaced and she shook head viciously trying to dislodge them.

_Not now!_

But the haunting images bubbled to the surface of her mind. Her heart sped up. Perhaps it was natural for thoughts of the last battle she was in to come to mind. But in that one, she knew whom her enemies were and what to do. Here… Her eyes widened as the door trembled again. Someone—or _thing—_ was cutting through the aged wood door.

Legolas narrowed his eyes and shot through a hole that one of the orcs created. It shrieked and fell back. Aragorn released his arrow and it too found its mark through a split in the wood. However, the door could not hold.

The barrack gave way and the doors swung in, slamming against the walls. Orcs poured in; their hideous faces alight with evil intent. Shaken both from her memories and the unreal sight before her, Lana instantly drew back.

Words could not describe their ugliness. Never before had she seen such horrific creatures. Surely these things were not real? They looked like demons!

Adrenaline flooded her system as survival instincts kicked in. She quickly drew back into a corner where some stone adornments had fallen. It created a nook just big enough for her to duck down and squeeze into. Gripping the sword in her hands tightly she prayed that she would be overlooked. She was a journalist—not a soldier!

Aragorn drew his sword the moment the doors flew open. He charged into the fray and began slicing and stabbing. Legolas withdrew to higher ground from where he could rain down his arrows. The hobbits finding their courage surged forward. In the heat of the moment, no one noticed that Lana was missing. Well-hidden she watched the battle with a thumping heart. Her brain could not believe her eyes.

Behind them the orcs dragged in the massive cave troll. It bellowed and flung its huge hands wildly as the orcs poked and prodded it into the room. Chaos took on a new meaning, as it seemed that orcs were on every side and the troll's flailing figure added an extra challenge. Provoked, the beast attacked ally and enemy alike.

Somehow Boromir got tangled in the beast's chain. The troll jerked it sending him flying. Stunned the man tried to regain his feet, but his head was ringing. An orc loomed over him, its yellow teeth revealed in an unwholesome grin. Without warning it fell over, a sword protruding from its back. Aragorn nodded to the man who signaled that he was recovered.

As the battle raged around her, Lana stayed secure in her hiding place. That was until an orc spotted her. It moved behind her and grabbed her hair through the small space at the back of her sanctuary. She cried out and tried to hack herself free. Maneuvering her weapon carefully she thrust backwards.

The resistance she felt was like a shock going up her arm, but the creature let go of her hair with a shriek. Crawling forward she rubbed the back of her head. Her hair was now loose and falling from its ponytail.

Another demon jumped in front of her. Her eyes widened as it lifted its curved weapon. She wouldn't be able to move fast enough. Just as the scimitar came down an arrow went through the beast's head.

Lana jumped aside as the orc fell over, its weapon falling uselessly to the floor. Glancing in the direction the arrow had come from she saw Legolas running along the upper level of the room. His next target was already sighted; he no longer looked at her.

The battle raged on but it didn't last long. The troll who seemed bent on capturing Frodo was brought down by Legolas, but only after it managed to skewer the poor hobbit with a large trident.

Lana leaned against a wall panting. Her cheek was bleeding steadily from a gash she didn't remember getting, and her hands were battered and bloodied as well. However, her heart was still thundering even as the Fellowship moved slowly towards the prone hobbit. She hung back not trusting her legs just then. The feeling of dismay from the group was pervasive, but she could hardly sense it over her own adrenaline rush.

Her body was in shock and she was trying desperately to not be sick. In her mind, all she could think of was that she _killed_. These creatures, orcs or whatever they were called, she had ended up killing two of them. The notion made her queasy. She had never killed anyone before…

A sudden wheezing cough captured her attention. Aragorn drew back in amazement. Far from being dead, Frodo sat up rubbing his chest.

"I'm alright. I'm not hurt."

Sam rushed to his side, tears of sorrow turning into tears of joy. "He's alive!" The sandy-haired hobbit warbled in relief.

Aragorn's voice was shaking when he spoke. "You should be dead! That spear would have skewered a wild boar."

"I think there's more to this hobbit than meets the eye," Gandalf said, relief and mischief coloring his tone.

Frodo revealed that he was wearing some kind of chainmail shirt. It gleamed brightly in the dim light.

" _Mithril_ …" Gimli murmured in awe. "You are full of surprises Master Baggins."

Lana slowly drew closer now that her queasiness had passed. The moment of joy did not last long, however. Already there were the sounds of more orcs coming. Gandalf looked at them all.

"To the bridge of Khazad-dûm!"

They raced out of the room and back into the great hall. Lana still held her Dwarven sword tightly. In the gloom, she could hear them being surrounded. It seemed that the orcs were coming from every direction—even from above!

Abruptly Gandalf drew up fast. They bunched together as a ring of orcs circled them. They cackled and jeered. Maniacal faces were alight with evil pleasure. Lana was crowded into the middle of the group as the men brandished their weapons.

Closing her eyes, she sent up a prayer to whatever deity cared to listen. _Please let me wake up! This can't be happening!_

Gimli growled vocally and his ridiculous show of courage made Lana swallow her panic and grip her sword tighter. Setting her jaw she narrowed her gaze at the ring of goblin creatures.

 _Well, fuck this. Come on then…_ Lana adjusted her grip on her weapon.

Without warning, a terrifying bellow sounded in the distance. It sent a collective shiver through the orcs and the Fellowship. Suddenly unsure, the orcs began chattering nervously.

The roar sounded again. Truly frightened the orcs scattered and ran. Gimli laughed but his humor didn't last. From deep in the shadows a flickering red light was growing. An unspeakable dread settled on the company.

"What is this new devilry?" Boromir asked Gandalf cagily.

Gandalf bowed his head looking suddenly very weary. When he raised his gaze he said, "A balrog. A demon from the ancient world."

At this proclamation Legolas, the ever-unflappable elf, seemed to freeze. Lana noticed his body stiffen and his wide eyes. She glanced at him wondering what could make this stern warrior quake so.

Gandalf continued. "This foe is beyond any of you. Run!"

Everyone jumped and began running. An angry bellow echoed behind them as the air became suddenly very warm.

* * *

_Thank you for reading! I hope you are enjoying the story thus far._ _Critical critiques and comments are always appreciated._


	4. The Bridge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please read the author's note for disclaimer and explanation of this story.
> 
> I make no claims on Tolkien's works. I also give credit to Cormak3032.
> 
> I couldn't resist giving you one more chapter. Enjoy!

 

* * *

**Chapter 4: The Bridge**

It was hot. As they ran it felt like a fire was chasing them. Flames indeed began to appear, licking the distant walls and snaking up through cracks in the floor. The once freezing caverns had turned into a blazing inferno.

Gandalf led the way urging them to move faster. He flagged them through a doorway that led to some stairs leading downwards. Waiting until the last of them passed through, he glanced back the way they came.

Seeing nothing yet, he flew down the stairs after the rest of the Fellowship. They had halted abruptly as the stairs gave way. Legolas caught Boromir before he fell into the black abyss. Quickly rerouting the man found another set of stairs. Aragorn paused to look back. Seeing Gandalf struggling, he raced to his side.

"Gandalf!"

The wizard leaned against the Ranger. "Lead them on Aragorn. The bridge is near." He gestured towards the path.

Ahead in the rising gloom was the narrow bridge of Khazad-dûm. A movement several steps down from them caught Aragorn's attention. It was the woman, Lana. She had pressed herself against the wall and was slowly moving down the steps. The gap between her and the rest of the company was widening.

"Her time will come," Gandalf said prophetically. "With proper training she will be a fine warrior. She will earn her place among you before the end."

Aragorn's brows drew together. He was about to ask what the wizard meant but the low rumbling growl of the balrog shook the floor beneath them. Then Gandalf shoved him down the steps.

"Do as I say! Swords are of no more use here!"

Aragorn looked back uncertainly but moved ahead. He grabbed Lana's wrist pulling her along.

"Wait! Wait!" She squeaked breathlessly.

"There is no time!" Aragorn told her brusquely.

Nearly dragging her down the stairs he pulled her into the middle of the group before joining Boromir in the lead.

Lana forced herself to keep her eyes glued on the steps under her feet and not on the black void only two feet away. _Just keep moving; don't look down there._ As she coached herself she found her rhythm. Once again her survival instincts kicked into overdrive. In her head, she counted the steps methodically as they descended towards the level with the bridge.

Unexpectedly her foot slipped and she slammed into someone's back. With a terrified squeak, she gripped them, petrified of going over the edge. He turned and grabbed her arms gently but with bridled strength. When Lana finally opened her eyes her heart skipped uncomfortably.

Legolas the elf was staring into her frightened gaze. Concern colored his expression. It was the first time she had seen him look at her with anything other than distrust or blankness.

"I'm sorry!" She breathed her face flushing. Quickly she pulled herself upright, feeling altogether like a clumsy ass.

"It is all right," he told her softly.

He didn't release his hold on her arm but instead guided her around to walk in front of him. Her terror was plain for him to see, but he had to respect the fact that she kept going. Placing his hand on her shoulder he meant to guide her and prevent her from slipping again. But she repeatedly shied away from his touch. Finally, he let her be and kept an eye on her instead.

The company drew up sharply then. The stairs were broken leaving a gap. The space between them plunged down hundreds of feet. Lana reeled back agitatedly.

"Ah fuck! What now?" She asked breathlessly to no one in particular.

She jumped as Legolas placed a hand on her shoulder again. He lightly stepped around her and moved down the steps. Without expending any effort, he jumped the gap and held out his arms for her to jump. Her eyes grew huge and she shook her head vehemently.

Gandalf stepped in front of her. Even as she shrank back from the gap she watched as the old man leaped the space. Legolas caught him easily.

"Merry! Pippin!" Boromir called.

The man gathered up the hobbits, one in each arm, and jumped. Lana's heart was in her throat, but they made it safely. Unable to stand due to her shaking she sank down on the steps.

Aragorn looked at her in concern. "Lana you must jump!" He said over the roaring of their pursuer.

"I—I can't!" She gasped.

She was petrified of heights, and she felt like the ground was spinning beneath her feet. Despite the terror that followed them, she couldn't move.

Frowning Aragorn reached down and pulled her up. Glaring into her fearful eyes he said, "You can—and you _will!_ "

He could feel her entire body shaking uncontrollably, but she nodded. Watching her to make sure she didn't slip he waited.

"Come on, Lana!" Merry called encouragingly.

Pippin flapped his hands to prompt her as well. Swallowing thickly she gathered herself. Before she could allow her brain to stop her she ran and jumped. For a terrifying moment she fell through space. Then she felt a solid body halt her descent. Strong arms wrapped tightly around her and the scent of leather, masculine sweat, and earth tones filled her nose.

"Well done," he whispered in her ear before pushing her behind him.

Lana moved jerkily, but Legolas' words of praise were empowering. She had made it! Merry grabbed her hand and she gripped it tightly. Aragorn had since tossed Sam over and moved to do the same with Gimli.

Without warning, an arrow whistled past Lana's head. Another hit the steps by Sam's feet. Immediately Legolas lifted his bow and shot back at the orcs who had positioned themselves on a level above them. Aragorn too responded in kind.

The orcs fell shrieking to their deaths. Aragorn turned back to Gimli, but the dwarf held up a firm hand.

"Nobody tosses a Dwarf!" He declared stoutly.

With a mighty leap, the son of Glóin launched into the air. He did not quite make it, though. Lana gasped sharply, her hand squeezing Merry's.

With lightning reflexes, Legolas' hand shot out and grabbed onto the first thing he could catch.

"Not the beard!" Gimli howled.

However, Legolas managed to pull him forward, thus saving the dwarf from falling into the abyss. The stairs started crumbling. Frodo and Aragorn leapt back, narrowly escaping the disaster. Lana bit her fist in fear.

The gap was now huge. No one could cross it without falling. The Fellowship watched in helpless horror. Behind them, the balrog moved beyond the wall. It seemed to pound against it. Cracks appeared, running up the stone. Lana saw Aragorn lean down to Frodo, but she couldn't catch what he said.

Without warning, a piece of the ceiling came crashing down. It landed on the stairs behind the Ranger and hobbit. The impact caused the decrepit steps to buckle and then break off from the rest. Aragorn grabbed Frodo tightly as the now loose stairs started to wobble. It teetered dangerously to the right then left.

"Lean forward!" He shouted to the petrified hobbit.

Slowly the stairs started to fall forward. Legolas and Boromir stood ready to catch them. The force of the impact nearly threw them all off the intact stairs, but Legolas caught Aragorn, and Boromir, Frodo.

Feeling a tug on her hand Lana obediently followed Merry. They raced away through a passage and out towards the bridge. At this point, the heat from the fires was nearly unbearable. Sweat dripped down Lana's back, but she didn't feel it. The only thing that mattered was running.

"Over the bridge!" Gandalf commanded. "Fly!"

Boromir took the lead with Merry and Pippin after him. Lana halted again seeing the narrow bridge and the huge empty space that it spanned. Once more her fear grew.

Seeing the woman freeze up once more, Legolas did not hesitate to grab her arm this time. "Come!" He ordered intractably and pulled her after him.

Lana had no air in her lungs to protest. Her fear was making it difficult to breath. Or it might have been the heat, or the bizarre sensation that ran up her arm as the elf's hand gripped her wrist. Or perhaps it was a combination of all three. She didn't know what to think.

As they raced to the other side, she released a breath she did not realize she had been holding. Legolas frowned as she collapsed against a boulder practically sobbing. But he didn't spare her another look. The heat and firelight grew exponentially and when he turned, the elf felt all his courage fail him.

Gandalf stood alone in the middle of the bridge facing the bane of Elves, Men, and Dwarves. A servant of Morgoth stepped forward like a nightmare from history.

"You cannot pass!" The wizard bellowed.

"Gandalf!" Frodo's cry echoed loudly.

The entire Fellowship watched in horror as the creature beat its ash-laden wings. The balrog puffed up its chest and the flames grew brighter. But the posturing did not faze the wizard. If anything, the light on the end of his staff grew brighter, and his sword reflected back the white light.

"I am a servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the flame of Anor. Dark fire shall not avail you Flame of Udûn!"

The balrog drew out a sword of shooting flame. It brought it down smashing it on the wizard. Lana's scream of terror was drowned out by a sound like thunder. To everyone's astonishment, the monster's sword shattered as it struck Gandalf's.

It roared in fury.

"Go back to the shadow!" Gandalf commanded his voice echoing off the mighty cavern walls.

The balrog did not back down. Instead, it drew out a whip of fire. It cracked it overhead and the scent of brimstone filled the air.

"YOU SHALL NOT PASS!"

Gandalf thrust his staff down with both hands. A flash like lightening illuminated the chamber. The balrog hesitated for a moment, flaring its nostrils as it glared with empty eyes. Then it roared and stepped onto the bridge.

The stone, however, buckled and gave way. The company watched in awe-filled horror as the balrog fell before Gandalf. Its whip flashed in the darkness. Gandalf sighed deeply and turned away.

From her angle, Lana could see the demon as it fell. Panic seized her when she saw the monster flick its wrist. Her cry was lost however amid the deafening sounds of chaos that erupted. The whip wrapped around the wizard's ankle and pulled him over the edge.

"GANDALF!"

Frodo launched himself forward as if he meant to save the wizard.

"No—No!" Boromir caught the little hobbit and restrained him.

For a moment, time seemed to halt. Gandalf looked into each of their eyes. Lana felt her heart break as a strange knowledge filled her. In his terror-filled eyes, Lana saw that Gandalf was no mere wizard…but something far more and infinitely precious.

"Run you fools!" He rasped, breaking the spell that seemed to hold them immobile.

And then he was gone.

Frodo cried, his wailing echoed in the cavernous space. Stunned, Lana just sat there clutching the boulder onto which she had fallen. Arrows started whizzing through the air.

"Gandalf!" Boromir yelled, heartbrokenly.

The Fellowship dodged the missiles and made for the stairs that led out of the cavern. And still Lana could not move. Only when an arrow shot past, nicking her ear did she jerk to life. Aragorn was one of the last to leave. He latched onto her arm and shoved her before him out into the sunlight.

* * *

_Thoughts? Comments? Send me a note!_

_Thanks for reading!_


	5. Loss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please read the author's note for disclaimer and explanation of this story.
> 
> I make no claim to Tolkien's works. I also give credit to Cormak3032.

 

* * *

**Chapter 5: Loss**

Bursting into the pure light of day the Fellowship crumbled into despair. Merry and Pippin openly sobbed while Sam held his face in his hands. Boromir had to hold Gimli back. The dwarf was demanding that justice must be had. It took all the Gondorian's strength to prevent Gimli from dashing back inside.

As for Legolas, he looked about, not really seeing anything. He was no stranger to death but this…what he had just witnessed…he couldn't form a coherent thought. Torpidly he looked at the world not even sure of what he was seeing. In his heart grief took hold as well as a deep shame.

Aragorn was still gripping Lana by the arm as he raced into the broad daylight. He looked about seeing this now broken company. He looked down then realizing that he still held onto the woman he let go jerkily. She looked up at him. In her eyes he saw the reflection of his own narcosis. He blinked.

_Her eyes are blue…_

In the light of day the color was clear now. Her eyes were a deep blue. And they looked at him, dazed and confused. He turned away, unable to hold her gaze.

Looking up he knew that they had to get away from the mines as quickly as possible. He attempted to clean his sword and frowned in consternation at his shaking hands. Collecting himself he called out to the elf.

"Legolas. Get them up."

The Mirkwood elf turned to him blankly for a moment before gradually moving towards the youngest hobbits.

"Give them a moment for pity's sake!" Boromir blurted in distress. Tears were visible in his eyes.

"By nightfall these hills will be swarming with orcs!" Aragorn argued back. "We must reach the woods of Lothlórien."

Lana blinked as if coming back to consciousness. Aragorn stepped up to her and said quietly, "You will come with us." Then he turned and moved towards the still reeling Fellowship.

"Come Boromir, Legolas, Gimli—get them up. On your feet, Sam." He patted the weeping hobbit on the shoulder.

Turning he searched for Frodo. The dark-haired hobbit had wandered down a ways, drifting among the steppes that made up the once glorious path to Moria.

"Frodo? Frodo!"

The hobbit halted and turned. The woe in his eyes was unbearable. Slowly he returned to the group. While they waited Aragorn untied a dagger from his belt.

"Here; take this." He offered it to Lana.

She stared numbly at the blade, then her eyes seemed to widen. She shook her head. Aragorn opened his mouth to say something then frowned. She was wounded, and he only just now noticed it. The cut on her cheek was oozing. Blood mingled with her tears. He could also see a trail of blood on her neck. And her left arm too had been slashed.

"You are injured," he observed in concern. "But they do not appear to be life-threatening." He inspected her with his eyes closely. "They will need tending once we reach safety."

He held out the dagger to her again. Once more she shook her head. Annoyed, he grabbed her hand and set the dagger in it. Giving her a stern look he then turned away.

"Let us go!" He called to the group.

Striking out on a path Aragorn led them away from the dark door of Moria. The sun was high. They only had half a day to reach the safety of the Golden Wood.

The Ranger kept them at a dogged pace; only allowing them to stop once at a stream to refill waterskins and catch their breath. Lana for her part continued to move numbly. Once at the stream, she sated her thirst without giving a thought that the untreated water might make her sick. Splashing the chilled liquid on her face, she rubbed away the grime and blood. The cut on her cheek stung, but it made her more alert.

Feeling somewhat coherent she dragged her body onwards, following the indefatigable Ranger. In her mind, she tried to piece together what had just happened to her life in the last few days.

The group was quiet as they ran on. Dread kept their feet moving expeditiously. No one wanted to encounter the enemy at night. When the sun began to set, they entered a wooded area. It was not Lothlórien, but it was close. While Aragorn was loath to do it he brought them to a halt. The company was spent; and even he felt as if a great weight rested on his shoulders, hunching them forward.

He found a place that could be easily defended for their camp. They would rest there for the night. A watch would be set. Until then they dispersed to set up their Spartan bivouac.

Lana volunteered to collect firewood. It gave her a chance to get away from all these men. Her brain was still in shock, unable to process everything in a way that made any sense. She wanted to use this time to try and get some of her mind in order.

As she stooped to pick up dry sticks and twigs she thought back to Aragorn's words. _Only a small fire tonight_. They did not want to attract unwanted attention. The idea of fire sent a tremor through her body. Would she ever be able to look at a flame again without freaking out? When she closed her eyes all she could see was that demon creature that killed Gandalf.

"You are injured."

Lana physically jumped and dropped half of her kindling. Whipping around she saw the elf watching her. Swallowing she bent down to fetch the fallen the branches. Irritation flashed through her as well as discomfort.

"I'm fine. It's nothing."

When she straightened she nearly jumped again but swore under her breath instead. He was now standing right next to her. She frowned. _How…?_ She hadn't heard him move. Backing away she continued to scavenge for wood choosing to look busy. She could feel the elf's eyes on her. _Please! Just go away!_

The last thing she wanted right now was this freakish glowing creature with pointed ears watching her. She peeked sideways under her lashes at him. Yes. He literally _glowed._

_It's probably just the lighting, fool._ But that explanation did not make her feel any better. Swallowing she kept focused on her task.

Legolas frowned as he studied her. She was a strange woman and he still didn't know what to make of her. Still, she was now a part of this company, and that meant she was now part of his concern.

"They should be attended to." He pressed.

The last thing they needed was for her to fall ill from her wounds. Without warning, she spun around, her eyes flashing brazenly. Whatever she wanted to say was immediately swallowed back. They regarded each other silently before Lana exhaled loudly through her nose. She brushed past him and returned to camp, her arms laden with kindling.

Legolas furrowed his brows, but he did not follow her. Instead, he scouted the trees around them checking for signs of danger. He could not be bothered with the foreign woman now.

Lana set about creating the campfire with Merry's help. She riffled through her backpack and found her Zippo lighter. The device enchanted both Merry and Pippin, but it seemed too much to ask to be truly curious. It appeared that even their irrepressible natures were bruised and battered.

"You're hurt," Sam said as he came back to camp with some herbs stuffed in his pockets.

Lana ground her teeth and forced herself to answer politely. "It's fine, Sam. No worries."

"Orcs coat their weapons with poison," Boromir said from where he now sat. "You could die from such a wound."

Lana met the man's eyes. She had an uneasy feeling that he would be just fine that. Scowling at him she tossed her loose hair over her shoulder.

"I appreciate your _concern_ ," she replied sarcastically. "But I'm fine."

Animals bare their teeth to warn and threaten. People bare theirs as a sign of friendliness usually. Lana bared her teeth in something that could have been interpreted smile, or a warning. The expression was not lost on the man, and Boromir leveled a virulent look at her.

"You pretend to be brave, but you are nothing more than a frightened little maid!"

The way he said 'little maid' caused Lana to curl her lip in disdain. She ignored him but in doing so missed the furtive glance Boromir sent in Frodo's direction.

He continued on grousing. "You have no strength, no skill, no use… _it_ will take control of you. You will be our downfall!"

Tossing her hair out of her face again she looked at him as if he was mad. "What the hell are you talking about? What will control me?"

She caught Frodo staring at her with intense eyes. He looked away when her gaze met his. Beyond confused, tired, and physically in pain, she felt herself growing impatient.

"We never should have brought you along!" Boromir continued doggedly. "You're a burden and you'll be the death of us all!"

"Boromir! That is enough!" Aragorn snapped. The Ranger reappeared carrying two fish that he caught from the stream. He tossed them on the ground next to Sam. "There will be no bickering among us!" He ordered.

"And who left you in charge?" Boromir jeered.

The Ranger met the challenge evenly. "Gandalf."

That ended all arguments and discussions. Frodo looked down his eyes suspiciously glassy. His hand gripped the front of his shirt. Lana felt her own heart contract. She thought that she sympathized with his feelings, but…there seemed to be unidentifiable aura hung around the hobbit. It was like a cloak and it baffled her. But she just didn't care enough to puzzle over it now.

A new thought came into her head then: everyone was hiding something from her. She quickly reviewed her conversations and what she had observed. All in all, the group had been more than reticent about its mission. And that made her think…

They seemed to be very careful with their words and most spoke in hushed tones around her. The only exceptions were Merry and Pippin. But they never seemed to talk about anything of real import. She tapped the first two fingers of her right hand on the sheathed knife in her lap thoughtfully. The muted click of her fingernails made her frown and she hastily set the weapon aside.

This was not just a simple quest she decided…it was something more. She was a journalist after all, and she knew faces and emotions _very_ well. Something was not right here. Secrets were thick like a miasma around her.

Moving back from the fire, she leaned against a tree and watched the Fellowship. This was the first time she actually took the time to truly observed them. _It seems that I have accepted that this isn't a dream after all,_ she mused sardonically. If this had been a dream, she was certain she would have woken up by now. And — she wouldn't be hurting like this. Not to mention she would have had given herself extraordinary powers or something if this was a dream.

The cut on her cheek had dried and it now itched. Suppressing the urge to scratch it she distracted herself by watching her reluctant companions.

The group was very subdued and Lana was not unaffected by it. She had been through hell with them, but she wondered what it was that brought this strange group of people together. Observing Frodo while she ate her supper she concluded that it had to do something with him. Everyone seemed deferential to the hobbit and she wondered just who he was.

As darkness fell, they snuffed out the fire and prepared to rest. Aragorn volunteered to take the first watch and Legolas the second, with Boromir taking the last shift. Lana moved a little ways further from the group and sat behind a tree. Partially hidden she allowed herself a private moment to grieve on her own.

It wasn't just for Gandalf. In truth, she wasn't really mourning for the wizard in particular. While he had earned a soft spot in her heart, she had only known him for a few days. No, it was for her home and her life that she mourned now.

She stared through the leaves towards the sky. The few stars that she could see brought some solace to her. Trying to make out the constellations she silently wished she had paid more attention in her high school astronomy class. The sound of a twig snapping made her jump.

"Ah! Shit, Aragorn!" She murmured, trying to catch her running heart.

He grimaced apologetically. "I've come to tend your wounds."

She blinked at him blankly then shrugged. "They're fine; not bleeding anymore."

He regarded her closely for a moment. "Boromir was correct when he said that orcs taint their weapons with poison. Even the smallest wound could mean death if left unattended."

Lana thought that if any of her wounds had been poisoned she would have felt it by now.

"I don't feel sick," she replied tonelessly.

"Not now, but that could change." He countered.

Not wishing to argue she merely shrugged again. She allowed him to clean the cut on her cheek and ear. The astringent made her eyes water, but she didn't flinch. He coaxed her out of her fleecy jacket and flannel shirt so that he could clean the gash on her right arm.

She barely remembered getting that one. An orc's blade had caught her unawares in Balin's tomb. He met his death swiftly by one of Legolas' impressive shots.

For his part, Aragorn's eyes were drawn to her right shoulder. A complex but artful pattern of flowers and images were inked into her skin. He quickly diverted his gaze back to his task, but he wondered at this woman yet again.

"None are as bad as I feared. They are all superficial." He bandaged the gash on her arm with a length of cleanish cloth. "You are very lucky."

She snorted dryly. "Lucky."

Aragorn watched her face. He sensed her sorrow and her abiding confusion. Her first days had been traumatic to say the least. For a woman she was handling it well enough, he thought. He knew plenty others who could not do so. Gandalf was right when he said that she had courage in her. The potential was there.

"You will need to be trained," he told her matter-of-factly. "You could have been killed today."

She huffed dryly. Her lips curved in a humorless smile. "I should have died so many times before."

He cocked his head with a frown. But she did not elaborate. Instead, she said, "But…I would surely have died today if it hadn't been for you and that elf."

She met his eyes then, and he saw gratefulness there. Then her gaze shifted over her shoulder to the camp. Aragorn followed her gaze. Boromir glanced their way and then looked away sourly.

"Do not take what Boromir said to heart. He is not himself. Moreover, he had no right to insult you."

Lana turned back around to stare into the trees. "He doesn't concern me." She confided flatly in that low husky voice of hers.

"Then what troubles you, my lady?"

She glanced at him with a raised brow. It was the first time anyone had addressed her as such. It was weird.

"Many small things…many small things all bound together into one big thing." She sighed and leaned back against the tree. "I still have no idea what happened to me; nor do I even have a close understanding of any of this. The one person that I felt I could trust is now gone."

Her voice ended in a whisper. Aragorn watched as deep-rooted emotions nearly broke to the surface and then were pushed away.

"We all cherished Gandalf," he offered softly. She nodded. "He had faith in you," the man continued. "He believed you would become far more than who you are now."

Her gaze met his then thoughtfully. "He said that?"

"Aye. He did. I can help teach you, but you must work hard, and you must shed any fears or doubts you may hold."

Her eyes shifted downward as she cradled her right wrist in her left hand. Her thumb rubbed the fine bones there. After a moment she nodded.

A long silence grew between them. Aragorn knew that she was mourning Gandalf just like the rest of them. But he also understood that she must be yearning for the home that had been snatched from her so unexpectedly.

There would be time enough later to discuss training. Realizing that she most likely wanted to be alone with her thoughts, he started to rise.

"Where is it that we are going again? Loth…Lothlor…" she stumbled over the name.

"Lothlórien," he said, settling back down. "It is the home of the Lady of Light." Seeing her confusion he clarified. "One of the homes of the elves."

Her brows drew together thoughtfully. "Is that where…" she glanced back towards camp.

Legolas was staring at them from where he reclined against a tree. He did not look away as her eyes met his. His look was nearly physical. Suppressing a shiver, Lana looked back to Aragorn. He shook his head.

"No. He hails from the Woodland Realm—Mirkwood. It is far to the north of here."

Lana's lips drew downward into a frown. A melancholy settled on her features. "I don't know anything about these places…it's all unfamiliar to me," she lamented softly.

Aragorn touched her shoulder and gave her a slight smile of encouragement—though it took some effort to give her even that. She was still a stranger to him—to the Fellowship—and his own heart was heavy with grief. But he assumed the mantle of leader without complaint.

"For now they are. Perhaps one day you will be familiar with them. Mayhap you will even see them with your own eyes." Squeezing her shoulder he rose and left her to her thoughts.

Lana watched him briefly then looked ahead into the trees once more. With a sigh, she drew her legs up and rested her forehead on her knees. She resisted the idea of becoming familiar with any of these places. All she wanted was a one-way ticket home.

_Is that too much to ask?_

Gandalf had said she would live and die in this world. She refused to believe him—for all his otherworldly wisdom he wasn't a god—gods couldn't die after all. And he had. Besides, there were simple laws in the universe and one of those was this: For every action, there is an opposite and equal reaction.

Simply put, there _had_ to be a way back. And she would find it.

But for now, she was stuck in this strange place with even stranger people. She stared out blankly into the deepening dark and let her mind wander. Too tired to stop the thoughts and emotions they welled up like molasses in her brain she let them ebb and overflow. It was a slow trickle that had little strength but was nonetheless difficult to stop. Unbidden, the liquid from her heart gathered in her eyes.

Legolas rose as Aragorn returned to the main camp. He had heard him speaking with the woman, but despite having acute hearing he had not been able to decipher many of their words for they had been hushed. He had heard "Lothlórien" and caught the woman's look as she turned to him. He knew his name had been spoken as well.

_"_ _How is she faring?"_ He asked softly in his native tongue.

Most of the camp was now resting, if not already sleeping. It would not do to wake them. Aragorn moved further into the trees and Legolas followed.

"She grieves like the rest of us. Her heart is heavy," the man replied in the Common Tongue.

Legolas frowned. "She is frightened."

"She has every reason to be. She knows nothing of this land or the dangers that we face."

Legolas looked at his friend intently. "I have a terrible feeling that something is going to happen. It is not safe for her here."

Aragorn paused and sent him a searching look. Legolas' intuitions were rarely wrong. But the elf offered nothing more.

"Gandalf believed in her," Aragorn stated. "She will prove her worth and become a skilled warrior in time." He glanced back to where the woman sat partially screened by the trees. Then he returned his look to Legolas. "I will start her training as soon as we reach the safety of the Golden Wood."

When Legolas remained silent, Aragorn started to move off to take his watch. But then the Legolas spoke up again.

"She speaks to you?"

Turning back he regarded the Mirkwood elf. "Some."

Legolas' dark brows furrowed then. "She fears me. I see it in her eyes."

Aragorn's brows drew together slightly. He did not know what to say to that. "She has never met an elf before," he offered.

Legolas' lips thinned. "Perhaps not, but neither has she ever met a dwarf or hobbit, yet she speaks with Gimli and the Halflings." He countered smoothly. "They were speaking after supper."

Aragorn tilted his head. "Does this trouble you?"

Legolas seemed disinclined to answer but then he said, "I should be feared by the enemy; not by one of our own. I have done nothing to harm her."

In fact, he had done quite the opposite. He had saved her several times already. Her behavior confused him and pricked at his sensibilities — as well as needled his heart. Aragorn clapped him gently on the shoulder.

"She doesn't see herself as one of us; not yet anyhow. Give her time, _mellon nín._ She will come around."

Legolas nodded slowly, accepting this answer. For now.

"Do not forget, everything here is strange and new to her," Aragorn added.

That was true. Legolas gave the Ranger a grateful smile. He hoped Aragorn's words would prove true. But perhaps, in the end, it wouldn't matter. They might very well leave the woman in Lothlórien.

When his time to take over the watch came, the woman was still awake. She had not returned to camp but remained some distance away. This concerned Legolas, although he couldn't pinpoint why. He eventually told himself that it was because if there were an attack she would not be protected—sitting as far as she was from the group. She was distancing herself from those that would help her.

His ears caught the faint sound of crying and he turned slightly so that he could observe her unnoticed. She was still sitting by that tree, her face buried in her arms.

He stood still, uncertain. He contemplated going to her but was confident that such an action would be unwise. She would not appreciate his company. And he was loathed to see that ambiguous dread enter her eyes. It appeared every time their gazes met.

He heard a movement and saw that Aragorn had also heard her. The Ranger had already left his bedroll. Legolas watched as she shied away from the man. He heard their hushed voices and turned away. It was impolite to eavesdrop after all. Still, curiosity uncharacteristically nagged at him, demanding his interest. Purposely tuning his ears to the forest, he resisted the urge to listen to their voices.

Lana had thought she had been quiet. She had not meant to breakdown and was furious with herself. And embarrassed. Especially since Aragorn had heard her. He had been asleep! If he heard her in his sleep there was no doubt the elf must have heard her as well.

She had been looking through her backpack and found her wallet. She had pulled out the pictures inside. There were only a few. One of her father, and another of her mother—they were divorced, hence two separate pictures.

There was a picture of her and her girlfriends in Italy, and another of her in Afghanistan surrounded by smiling children. That had been a good day. There was also a picture of her sweet but rather crazy cat, Pángur Bán. The fluffy Angora was exceptionally photogenic—once he sat still.

And then there was one of herself and her brother in Costa Rica. Her twin was ridiculous—as ridiculous as her. And perhaps just a bit smarter. _Or saner…_ He had chosen to be an engineer. His job was safe and well paid.

She, on the other hand, had doubled majored in linguistics and Classical studies. And went on to get her master's in journalism. She had spent five years covering stories from the Middle East, Africa, and South East Asia. She had spent part of one of those years as a hostage of Al-Qaeda. It had been the most terrifying and demoralizing period of her life.

When she had been released she had been war-weary and shell-shocked. The PTSD was terrible. The only one who was able to bring her back had been Aidan. Sweet, loving, _annoying_ Aidan. He wouldn't allow her to wallow. Instead, he filled her life with light, laughter, and fun. He was able to reach past her demons and find the girl who had been lost.

They had taken that trip to Costa Rica so that she could relax. It had been a good trip. And that's when the tears started to flow. As she looked at his ridiculous smiling face she could no longer hold back, and the slow trickle had become a rushing torrent down her cheeks.

"What is wrong?" Aragorn asked, kneeling beside her.

Jumping she drew away from him. She hated to cry, and she hated being caught crying even more. Roughly she brushed the traitorous liquid away.

"I cannot help you if you do not answer me," Aragorn informed her gently.

Lana sighed and lifted red eyes to him. He could see that she was still guarded but then, to his surprise she let go of her barriers. A deep pain shone in her eyes that shocked him—though he didn't know why it bothered him so. Then she handed him a small stack of thick paper. Aragorn took it carefully into his hands.

He looked down in amazement. The images he saw were so clear and vibrant. They looked to be exact copies of real life. Whoever the artist was they had more skill than even the elven portrait painters. He looked carefully through the images, noting the ones of a man and then a woman. He looked up at Lana and then back to the pictures seeing a family resemblance.

_Her parents,_ he realized suddenly. The next few made him wonder at the landscapes behind the figures, and why she had a picture of a white cat. Then he saw the one of her and a young man.

They were embracing each other joyfully, arms hugging each other's waists. The man was shirtless, and so too was Lana much to Aragorn's embarrassment. However, she wore a top that just covered her breasts.

Both of them were tattooed and sun-kissed. They had their free arms raised as if in salute. They were laughing. _Is this her lover?_

"That's Aidan," Lana said suddenly, interrupting his thoughts. "He's my twin brother."

"And these are…your parents?" He pulled out the two other pictures. Lana nodded. "You miss your family," he realized aloud.

She nodded, more tears escaping her eyes.

"I am sorry," he offered sincerely. "The pain lessens with time." His words were sympathetic.

His heart felt for her. Not only had she lost Gandalf, but her family as well. In fact, her whole life as she knew it was gone. He understood. Looking at her face he watched as Lana swatted away the tears that still rolled down her cheeks.

"It is just…it's difficult to think that…I'm… _never_ going to see them again." She choked out.

"While you will not see them in the flesh, at least you have these images to see with your eyes; you have the memories in your mind and love for them in your heart."

"That's not enough." She said bitterly. "I know it will have to be someday, but right now…I feel so alone," she lowered her head to her knees again. "I didn't even get to say good-bye." She whispered brokenly.

Feeling compelled, Aragorn reached out and stroked her head, pushing her dirty hair behind her ear.

"We all feel alone at times," he said softly. "But we do not have to remain as such."

Lana lifted her face and peered at him through glassy eyes.

"While there is much we do not know about you, and much you don't know about us, there is time to learn. Time to create new friendships." He lifted his brows and gave her a slight smile.

Lana regarded him with a single lifted brow. "But everyone is so guarded, and half of you guys are reluctant to talk to me…and honestly, I'm not feeling very loquacious myself." She grimaced. "How can I make friends if everyone thinks I am not trustworthy?"

Aragorn sighed. "You are not untrustworthy. You will discover the answers you seek, but not overnight. These are dangerous times for Middle Earth. Knowledge can be deadly."

Lana wrinkled her nose at that. "So is the _lack_ of knowledge," she retorted dryly.

Aragorn knew she was right, but he also knew that it was not wise to tell her about the Ring. Not until she knew more about her surroundings and how to defend herself. And despite his words, he needed to ensure himself that she could be trusted to keep this knowledge secret.

"I promise you that the answers you seek will be given, but only if you are willing to open yourself up to the friendship that surrounds you."

Properly abashed she gave him a sheepish smile. "Well, I guess you're right." She gave him a sidelong look. "Perhaps I'm lucky after all."

Aragorn chuckled softly. "True enough. You should rest. There is still a long journey ahead to Lothlórien, and you will need all your strength."

She nodded solemnly. Aragorn rose and offered his hand. "Come,"

He pulled her up. For a moment, they regarded each other. Then Lana smiled softly, even a bit shyly. "Thank you, Aragorn. I needed a friend right now."

"You are most welcome." A spot of warmth touched his weary heart.

He was pleased that she trusted him enough to call him a friend. It was certainly a beginning. Leading her back to the camp proper he helped her settle down with the others. He offered his bedroll to her, hushing her protests.

Lana stretched out on the canvas roll and gazed thoughtfully at her sleeping companions. The hobbits were all dead asleep, except for Frodo, who moved restlessly. Boromir lay snoring softly by the log he had sat on earlier. Gimli's heavy breathing was distracting and she wondered if she could sleep through his racket.

Shifting her gaze she watched as Aragorn joined Legolas at the tree line. She observed them until her eyes grew heavy. And at last, sleep came.

Aragorn sighed heavily as he stood beside Legolas. He knew the elf most likely heard the majority of their conversation. He needn't tell him what had transpired. Legolas had also seen Aragorn help Lana settle down for the night. She seemed comforted by the Ranger's presence.

_"_ _Maer ha i e hirnen ben esteliad."_ Legolas told him. _It is good that she had found someone to trust._

Aragorn stood looking up through the leaves. Stars could be seen winking through the foliage.

_"_ _Harthon esteliatha 'waith bain."_ _I hope that she will trust everyone._

Legolas smiled, hoping for the same. The two returned their gaze to the land and together held the remainder of the watch in silence.

* * *

_Thank you again for reading! Constructive criticism, reviews, love to the author is always appreciated. If you caught any typos, grammatical errors, inconsistencies please let me know! I have a terrible habit of using American and British spellings at the same time. Product of growing up in the US but going to Uni in the UK. Hugs to you all!_


	6. Lothlórien

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please read the author's note for disclaimer and explanation of this story.
> 
> I make no claim to Tolkien's works. I also give credit to Cormak3032.

**Please read the author's note for disclaimer and explanation of this story.**

I make no claims on Tolkien's works. I also give credit to Cormak3032.

* * *

**Chapter 6: Lothlórien**

At dawn, the Fellowship set out with renewed purpose. In their hearts, they still grieved deeply for Gandalf. But there was a quest to fulfill, and they knew they had to carry on. They all had a reason to carry on.

Except the woman.

Lana had found sleep difficult. Despite falling into a deep slumber, she woke with a feeling, not unlike a hangover. With the sunrise, she felt more withdrawn. It was a toss up between exhaustion and feeling like an outsider that caused her to focus inwardly.

She would speak only if spoken to, and if she did converse at all it was really only with Aragorn. Even that was limited for he had taken the lead while she tended to fall behind.

While her behavior was troubling, Aragorn had no time to dwell on the single problems of only one member of the group. He had hoped his words from the night before would have an impact on her, but she remained closed off.

For now, his mind was only for getting the travel-worn Fellowship to the Golden Wood as quickly as possible. The land began to change as they ran on. Rocky hillsides became softer and more trees started appearing. The sun was starting to set by the time they slowed their pace. Aragorn paused and ran his hand over the bark of one of the trees, almost in greeting. An eerie silence surrounded them.

Lana skidded to a halt as if she hit a physical barrier. She wasn't the only one to look about in wonder…or apprehension. There was the acute sense that they had stepped over a border of some sort. The air here felt… _alive_. She inched closer to Merry and Pippin.

The feeling she had come to associate with Legolas seemed to multiply by fifty—no, a hundred times. They were being watched. She knew it.

A golden light filtered through the trees and it was breathtaking—but otherworldly. Glancing at Legolas, Lana saw that he too was looking about in awe. _Well, neither he or Aragorn seem concerned…_

"Stick close young hobbits!" Gimli said, flagging Frodo and Sam closer. "They say that a great sorceress lives in these woods. An elf-witch of terrible power,"

Lana stared at the dwarf. _An_ elf _-witch?_ Where exactly was Aragorn taking them? After all that she had seen, she wouldn't put it past this world to have actual real witches.

"All who look upon her, fall under her spell," Gimli continued. "And are never seen again."

There was a breeze, like a breath on the wind. Lana saw Frodo pause unexpectedly with eyes widened. _At least I'm not the only one!_ Lana could swear that she felt a presence hovering around her.

"Mr. Frodo?" Sam asked in concern. Frodo just shook his head and continued to walk.

"Well, here's one dwarf she won't ensnare so easily. I have the eyes of a hawk and the ears of a fox— _oh!"_

Lana had only blinked and in that half-second they had become surrounded. The only sound had been the soft creaking of wood as twenty-odd bows were drawn back. She froze instinctively and she stared at the arrowhead that was just inches from her nose.

Not even Legolas was exempt. He must have drawn his bow at the same moment as their antagonists. He glanced about with a highly worried expression.

"The dwarf breathes so loud we could have shot him in the dark." The smooth voice sent shivers down Lana's spine. Gimli for his part growled and sent the speaker a dark glower. A commanding fair-haired elf stood just before Aragorn who greeted him in his own tongue.

_"Haldir o Lorien,"_

Lana's gaze shifted back to the elf nearest her and she deliberately backed away. Unknowingly this brought her closer to Legolas. The elf who had her in his sights watched her blankly, but then his eyes shifted to look her over. Lana thought she saw his lip curl in what looked like amused disdain.

Suddenly irritation replaced her fear. She narrowed her eyes and shot him a dark look. _I'd like to see you cross space and time, get dragged through caves and chased by demons and still manage to look flawless._

"Aragorn! These woods are perilous! We should go back," Gimli called nervously.

"You have entered the realm of the Lady of the Wood. You cannot go back." The leader of these elves said.

His imperious glance flittered over them. It paused briefly on Lana. She felt the strength of his gaze like a physical caress, and Lana fought the urge to fidget. She wondered what he found so interesting about her, but then he looked at Frodo.

His eyes widened, an intensity entering them. "You bring great evil with you!" He said in a low voice. Turning he said to Aragorn, "You may go no further."

Slowly everyone turned and stared at Frodo who seemed to shrink under the weight of their gazes.

o0o

Haldir, March Warden of the Golden Woods, brought them up into the trees for the night. He seemed loath to have them stay at all, but he finally agreed to give them one night's protection, honoring the friendship he shared with Aragorn.

Climbing up into the canopy, Lana couldn't help but think of the Lost Boys of Never-Never-Land. But the accommodations were spartan at best. The rope ladder was difficult for some of the Fellowship but she, for once, was able to do something without looking like a complete idiot.

When she reached the top she found that she was looking at the elf who had earlier pointed his weapon at her. He gave her an amused look as he offered his hand to her. His icy silvery-blue eyes reminded her of Haldir's. In fact, he looked like he could be related to the imperious March Warden, though she couldn't be sure.

At the moment, all these elves looked related—and she wasn't entirely certain she could tell them apart. When their hands touched, her skin tingled just a little but she dismissed it. All she wanted to do was get away from him and his fellow wardens' piercing eyes. It was bad enough with just Legolas, but now…

Lana was both amazed and terrified of being up in the trees. She kept well away from the edge of the platform she sat on. She sat down with Merry and Pippin and waited for something to happen.

Aragorn was pleading their case with Haldir several platforms away. She watched as the Ranger gestured emphatically to the stony elf.

"What do you think, Pip?" Merry asked. "All this elf business makes no sense to me."

Pippin pursed his lips then shrugged. "Well, I think they know."

"Shh! Pippin!"

The youngest hobbit looked startled then glanced at the elves and then Lana. She gave him a half-smile of sympathy. The poor hobbit never seemed to get a break. She found his fumbling earnestness endearing.

"It's not natural," Sam said from where he sat.

"What's that?" Merry asked.

"All this tree business. No respectable folk would live in a tree."

Silently Lana laughed. _Touché, Sam._

"It's not right, none of it." The sandy-haired hobbit bemoaned.

"Oh, I don't know, I think I kind of like it," Merry replied.

"Humph! Trust a Brandybuck and a Took to _like_ sitting up in a tree." Sam shook his head. Then he looked at Lana. "Mistress Lana, are you well?"

The other two hobbits looked her over as well. She gave them a half-hearted smile. "I'm alright. I just don't like heights."

Sam patted her knee comfortingly. "There now, I can understand that. See?" He turned back to Merry and Pippin. "She don't like it neither."

Lana mentally shook her head at the hobbits. Somehow they managed to stay light. Their irrepressible characters were something she envied. She liked them very much she realized with surprise.

Glancing around she saw Aragorn was still beseeching the elf, Haldir. Legolas was standing near the edge of the platform. His face was one of intense concentration. As if sensing her gaze he turned, but she quickly shifted her gaze towards Frodo and Boromir. They were speaking in hushed tones. Gimli sat rigidly near the tree truck as if he too suffered from vertigo.

Eventually, she fell into an uneasy sleep. In her dreams, she heard the ceaseless rustle of millions of leaves in the wind. And in that wind there seemed to be a voice. It called to her, but she couldn't make sense of it.

The following morning, Haldir stepped in front of Frodo. "You will follow me."

The hike into the woods was preceded with a blindfolding. Initially, they intended to blindfold only Gimli. Clearly, the contempt wasn't just isolated between Legolas and the dwarf. Lana wondered what could make dwarves and elves hate each other so. Though she would never ask, she could not help her inquisitive mind. It gave her something else to ponder besides her situation.

Aragorn, in an effort to be fair, said that they would all go blindfolded. Legolas had protested heartily at this. Why should he, an elf, and kinsman be subjected to this? This was the first time Lana had ever seen Legolas behave not in accordance with Aragorn. However, he did submit it to it, in the end, saving what dignity he had left.

The elf who blindfolded her was the same who had raked her over yesterday with his eyes and helped her up the tree. After observing the elves during the night, Lana wondered again if he was in fact related to Haldir. There was certainly a close similarity between them.

He murmured something to her then took her hand. Lana stiffened noticeably. She missed the elf's curious frown, though. Now blind she had to trust this creature. There was nothing to cause her fear for the elves, while standoffish, they had not been cruel to her or anyone in the in the group. Still, Lana felt a nervous response whenever an elf came near. It was several minutes before she calmed enough to allow the elf to guide her.

His hand, which still held hers, finally let go only to shift to her elbow, keeping her on track. He never let her stumble or stray. A mental image of a sheepdog can to her mind. She couldn't help but smile at this for it was absurd but comforting. Again she missed the curious glance from her elf-guide.

As they walked through the woods, Lana decided this wasn't all that bad. The fresh air and birdsong did wonders for her weary soul. She wished that she could see, but found it an interesting exercise to rely on her other senses. It seemed her hearing and sense of smell heightened. Even her tactile senses became more alert.

She didn't think she could hide the shivers that raced through her each time the elf touched her, or when that mysterious sensation of being watched passed over them. While she had grown more used to the alien feeling, she still grimaced each time she felt that foreign touch. If she didn't know better she would have said it was a goose walking over her grave. Her skin broke out in prickles each time this invisible "eye" looked at her.

Half way through the day Haldir declared that they could remove their blindfolds.

"The Lady sends word that you are welcome," he informed them. Stepping up to Gimli, he sketched him a shallow and stiff bow. "Our apologies, Master Dwarf."

Gimli merely glared, but mumbled something along the lines of "apology excepted."

Lana saw that they were on a bank of a swiftly moving river. The melodious sound was soothing and she stared at the water. Her guide appeared at her side making her jump. He flashed her a cheeky grin. Then he spoke and gestured to the water. She glanced at the river then at him. He mimed drinking. _Ah_ …she gave him a shy smile and skirted over to the riverbank. The water was cool and refreshing. Her fingers tingled from the cold.

The chill felt particularly good on her parched throat. Scooping up more she rinsed her face and hands. _I wish I could have a bath!_ Although the idea of jumping into an icy river was not so appealing what she could see of her reflection was rather frightening.

She pulled her hair loose from its shabby ponytail and combed it out with her fingers. Then she worked it into a loose braid. The sun had warmed the air enough so that she could shed her thick hoodie. She frowned as she fingered the rip in both the jacket and her flannel shirt.

Later she discovered that her guide's name was Rúmil. He had a mischievous personality and was prone to smiling. Though harmless as he seemed to be, Lana found his presence, or that of any elf, unnerving. He, on the other hand, seemed to find her reticent reactions funny. She got the impression that he would like very much to torment her—much like an annoying brother or cousin.

Thankfully he had duties to attend to and could not hover about her though his eyes strayed to her often. Lana did not notice how another watched her interaction with the warden closely.

Legolas was not one to force his presence on anyone, and he found Rúmil's youthful antics irritating. Lana was clearly uncomfortable by the warden's presence. He was about to intervene when Rúmil sketched her an ironic bow and moved off into the trees.

The puzzled look on Lana's face would have been amusing had not Legolas still felt piqued from the morning. Long had he desired to see Lothlórien, and to have to walk blindfolded through its renowned beauty was infuriating. At least, he soothed himself, he could _now_ see.

After their short break, the Galadhrim held counsel among themselves. Half were to return to the borders and the rest were to guide the strangers with Haldir back to the city.

Rúmil was to stay on the borders. This was both to Lana and Legolas' relief. But had they known they were thinking the same thing, neither would have been able to even look the other in the eye.

They were to cross the rushing stream. This brought quite a bit of consternation to the hobbits and dwarf. Even Boromir looked less than willing to forge the fast flowing water.

Haldir merely smiled smugly at their unhappy faces and then whistled. A warden on the other side of the stream appeared. He tossed a rope to the March Warden who caught it easily with one hand. He secured the rope to a tree and then tested the tension.

"Come, we have made you a bridge."

Lana snorted. "Some bridge," she murmured to Merry and Pippin. They stared at the rope with wide eyes. They clearly thought the elves mad.

"You call that a bridge?" Gimli groused, not hearing her remark. "Elves!" He muttered something invective in his own tongue.

"We can't swim!" Pippin bemoaned to his companions. "What are we going to do?"

What were they going to do indeed?

Grinning superiorly, Haldir hopped up on the rope and balanced with ease. "Fear not! We shall make it easier for you."

Lana frowned studying the rope. She had once been pretty good at tightrope walking. During her undergraduate years, she had been quite the hippie and joined the various free spirited groups that hung around her campus.

One of their favorite pastimes was tightrope walking—a ridiculous and pointless talent that would now be of use to her. She watched as Haldir ran lightly across the rope. His skill was something she could envy. He greeted the other elf and then took another rope and tossed it to Legolas. This he tied to the tree so that it ran parallel over the first, but at a higher height.

Then with annoying ease, he too ran lightly over the rope. The rest of the Fellowship was not so eager.

"Easy enough for them," Sam muttered. "They're elves after all."

Lana chuckled to herself. For once she felt that this was something she could do. Seeing that no one was eager to be next, she asked Aragorn if she could go. His face held nothing short of surprise. But he gallantly helped her up. She grabbed the cheater rope until she found her balance, then walked lightly across, if not quite as quickly or gracefully. Haldir gifted her with a surprised smile.

_"Mae carnen, híril nín,"_ he said, helping her down. _Well done, my lady._

She smiled a true smile for once. At last, she had shown that she wasn't entirely helpless or incapable. _Who knew all those wasted hours learning this skill would come in handy?_ Glancing at Legolas she saw him watching her intently. Her good mood evaporated under his penetrating gaze. His look felt like a physical touch on her body. Shuddering she quickly diverted her eyes.

Once all had crossed they proceeded onwards single file following a narrow elf-trail. The sun was setting by the time they came to the edge of a large meadow. In the center was a giant copse of trees whose height rivaled the redwoods in Lana's home state of California.

Haldir paused on the summit of a hill that looked upon the majestic trees. Waiting for them all to see, he smiled and swept a hand towards the landscape.

"Caras Galadhon, home of Lord Celeborn and Galadriel, Lady of Light."

The breathtaking sight was something Lana wanted to imprint onto her mind. _If only I had my camera!_ Yet the moment was so perfect she refused to even blink. _It's all just a dream…_ Her mind was still warring with her as it fought to understand how and why she was in this land.

Haldir led the group down the hill, but Lana lingered still absorbed in the beauty before her. An elf next to her spoke, smiling in amusement at her. She startled and blinked as if coming out of a spell. The mischievous look in the elf's eyes made her flush and she gave him a nervous smile. He seemed to be laughing at her. Quickly she caught up with Merry and Pippin.

As they came closer to the city in the trees, Lana realized that these were the largest trees she had ever seen. They dwarfed the mighty hardwoods of the South American rainforests, and their girth alone would have made the California redwoods look like toothpicks.

Amazing structures were built in the thick branches. A network of latticed walkways, bridges, and graceful dwelling spaces reminded her old Celtic fairy tales mixed with an Ewok village. _I would have totally been all over this as a kid!_ One corner of her lips quirked as she recanted that—she was totally geeking out about it now! She sighed. Her brother would have loved this.

The smile disappeared however as she felt the otherworldly presence again. The sensation that she felt when she first entered the woods was steadily growing. Whereas before she got used to it now it was permeating all her senses. She felt like she was walking on an electric floor.

She was not the only one who was stunned by the treetop city. Boromir's dark eyes glowed with awe and his haughty face became humbled. The hobbits were whispering among themselves their eyes wide. Even the grumbling Gimli seemed silenced by the beauty around him. Although, Lana thought she heard him grouse that there was no sign of good stonework anywhere.

Legolas…now he appeared far away. His natural glow looked brighter somehow. Lana observed how when he touched a tree his face seemed to light up. He appeared completely oblivious to everyone.

Haldir and his wardens marched the group through a main path and to the largest tree in the city. Up a spiraling staircase, they wound around and around to the top of the tree. The artistry put just into the staircase alone was mind-boggling. The steps were even and wide and very smooth. The handrails, when there were some, were intricately carved with floral motifs. Everything seemed to flow as it were alive and meant to be a part of the tree.

The woods were deep but not dark. Hidden lamps spilled a soft white light that turned blue the further away they were from the eye. The silvery bark of the trees shimmered as if iridescent. It was a land of fantasy, but the veneer of innocent childhood dreams was not present. If anything Lana felt like she had stepped back in time to a land where time did not exist. Her heart galloped as her senses hit overdrive.

Citizens of the city peered at them curiously, leaning over balconies and murmuring amongst each other. Some pointed long elegant fingers at the strangers. They were robed in soigné garments that accentuated their height and taste for finery.

At the summit of the tree was a wide space: a sturdy platform adorned with delicately carved wooden panels stood in the place of walls. It surrounded the center body of the tree, with the thinning truck thrusting up through the center. These upper branches were still very thick but gradually grew thinner as they continue to reach up towards the heavens. At the apex of the room—if it could be called a room at all—was a staircase that led up to a massive dwelling structure. If a palace could be built in the trees, it would look like the building in front of them.

A bright star-like light was glowing there, and it seemed to come closer, its light radiating with a mystical quality. Haldir lined the Fellowship up before the stairs and then stood off to the side. Lana found herself standing behind Merry and Pippin and next to Boromir. The man for once was too awed to bother with her.

They all shielded their eyes as the glowing light became brighter, then suddenly it dimmed enough for them to see. All the men were silenced in wonder as a glorious couple descended the stairs towards them. Lana felt her lips part as her jaw dropped in an uncouth manner.

A tall silver adorned elf looked down on them with ageless eyes. His robes made no sound as he moved. His face was youthful, but it was clear he had seen more years than anyone present. He radiated with royal presence, and his aura was only matched by the glorious elf-woman on his arm.

If the man was silver then she was gold. Her white gown glittered as if made of stardust and in her hair was a living golden light. Her countenance was flawless and beautiful beyond description. In her eyes gleamed the light of the heavens. She was immaculate!

Lana for her part felt wholly insignificant by comparison. Were they angels? If ever there was a case for their existence, it would be this couple Lana thought. Unexpectedly she started to tremble. Quickly she ducked her head down lest she lose her composure completely.

All other eyes were upon the couple, though. Aragorn bowed his head and touched forehead in a sign of respect. Frodo, for his part, was staring intently at the elf-woman.

"Nine there are here, yet not all set out from Rivendell," the low resonating cadence of the elven lord's voice washed over them like a wave. "Tell me, where is Gandalf, for I much desire to speak with him. I cannot see him from afar."

Silence.

"He has fallen into shadow," the white lady said in a voice that was achingly lovely.

The surprise in her voice made all the members of the Fellowship fidget and look away. Her consort looked to her in astonishment then dread.

"He was taken by both shadow and flame," Legolas spoke up suddenly. "A balrog of Morgoth." He seemed to spit the words out; the grief in his voice was biting. "For we went needlessly into the net of Moria."

There was anger in his voice too. Lana peeked at him from the side. Legolas was discharging such discontent and sorrow that for a moment she lost her fear of him. How his anguish burned! And her heart sorrowed in tandem his just for an instant.

"Needless were none of Gandalf's deeds in life." The lady admonished gently, and Legolas dropped his head. "We do not know his full purpose."

"What now becomes of this Fellowship? Without Gandalf, hope is lost." The silver elf proclaimed.

The lady looked them over carefully as she spoke her next words. "The quest stands upon the edge of a knife. Stray but a little and it will fail to the ruin of all."

Her eyes rested on Boromir. The man now was visibly shaking far worse than Lana. He dropped the lady's gaze a muted sound of distress in his throat. The lady shifted her glance to Sam.

"Yet hope remains while the company is true."

When her eyes flickered to Lana, the woman felt as if a cold knife pierced her mind. Something was invading her thoughts. The sensation was so bizarre and frightening that Lana flinched. It took all her willpower to not throw her hands up in defense to the alien feeling. Juddering, Lana mentally whimpered.

_What is this?!_

_There is much turmoil within you,_ a foreign voice whispered in her mind. _Have peace young one. Your healing will begin anon._

Slowly Lana looked up and realized that the woman was still speaking to the group at large. Yet, somehow, she could have sworn it was _her_ voice that was in her mind. Confused and more than a little afraid she missed the last words spoken by the lord and lady.

Then the feeling was gone as if it had never been there. Shaken to the core Lana stood frozen feeling half sick with nerves until Haldir moved forward to guide them once more. Numbly she followed the company back down the innumerable steps. At some point, she felt her mind touched again. This time, however, it was not quite so cold.

_You will find what you seek. Rest now, Lana Rey._

They were shown to a place prepared for them at the base of the trees. Tents were set up near a fountain. Suddenly they all felt the weight of their exhaustion. Haldir spoke to them, but Lana's thoughts were drifting.

Then the March Warden touched her arm, causing her to jump. "My apologies, my lady," he said looking at her oddly.

Lana realized that he had finished addressing the group at large. They were settling down now.

"This is Minuiel, she will show you where you can bathe," Haldir said gesturing to an elf-woman who must have been there all along.

Minuiel nodded gracefully to her. Haldir left her in the elf woman's care. She gestured for Lana to follow her. After receiving a nod from Aragorn, Lana left the glade still wearing her backpack.

The bathhouse was deserted when they arrived. Minuiel spoke little of the Common Tongue, but she managed to make herself understood. She pointed out the soaps, drying clothes and then pointed to Lana's clothes and then to a basket.

She indicated to a dress that was neatly folded on a bench then pointed to Lana. Then she left. With a sigh, Lana slowly stripped. The water was surprisingly warm and she hissed as she carefully submerged into the pool. It felt glorious. Naturally heated it seemed to be imbued with something that made her whole body relax.

Taking her time, she did not return to the camp for something close to two hours. She hated feeling dirty and the days of traveling and fighting, and _killing living_ things made her feel particularly stained. For a brief moment, she imaged herself as the Lady Macbeth.

_Out damnéd spot!_

She laughed a bit hysterically before breaking down. All the emotions she had tried so hard to withhold came pouring forth. Now that she was utterly alone she let go of everything.

Only after her skin became thoroughly pruned did she rise from the warm bath. Wrapped in a thick cloth, Lana took the time to rifle through her backpack. She had been traveling through the countryside before she arrived in this world, so she was rather well prepared with toiletries.

Forgoing the lotions in the bathhouse, she lathered up in one from home. The familiar scent conjured images like nothing else could. Her hair, now at last clean, was methodically brushed and left to air-dry.

She felt transformed after her bath. The dress left behind for her was of the softest material, but she couldn't be sure what the fabric was. Silk? But it felt softer than that…mohair maybe? She wasn't sure, but the weave was tight and Lana had to wonder at it for surely it was done by hand. The fabric held a faint sheen as she held it up to the light. It was beautiful.

At last, she returned to the camp wearing the luxurious blue-gray dress. All the men gave her a double take as she entered the camp.

"So there _is_ an actual woman beneath all those strange otherworldly clothes," Aragorn said with a teasing grin. "My lady," he sketched a playful bow.

Lana lifted a brow at him, trying to look stern but failed. She tossed her backpack to the tent designated for her use and then plucked a grape from a nearby tray. With alacrity, she threw it at the Ranger playfully. He laughed and ducked the projectile.

The sound of his laughter made her pause inwardly, for she had never heard such a sound from him. It was rich and lovely to hear. She flushed feeling suddenly ridiculous for throwing food. Besides, this was not her brother who she could easily razz.

The light banter did not last long as their weary sorrow took over again. Soft singing filtered down from the canopy above. The music made tears spring to their eyes.

Legolas just then returned with a pitcher of water he had filled from the nearby fountain. He had changed from his travel-stained garb into a silver tunic and gray leggings. And he was devoid of weaponry, which made him look leaner.

He looked distracted as if his mind was absorbed by some inner thought. Lana took the opportunity to study him. During all this madness in conjunction with her fear of him, she had not had the time to stop and really observe him. He was a stunning creature, she mused idly. But then there were several in the Fellowship who could easily rouse a woman's interest. But she had been too busy fighting for her life to notice any of this until now. Cleaned up here in Lothlórien they were truly handsome men.

She pulled her gaze from the elf feeling even further out of place amid all this masculinity. She watched indolently as the hobbits settled themselves in their tents. They had pillows and blankets, full stomachs, and they were clean. The elves had been gracious hosts.

The pervasive singing had continued on and they all listened mesmerized.

"A lament for Gandalf," Legolas said looking up into the tiers above. The sadness in his eyes was hard to bear. Few actually met his eyes now.

"What do they say about him?" Merry inquired softly.

"I do not have the heart to tell you," Legolas answered, slowly turning to the hobbit. "For me, the grief is still too near."

Sam tried his best to make his own tribute to the wizard, extolling his fireworks, but he sank down unable to make his words fitting enough. Lana thought they were lovely, though.

Absentmindedly she stared as Legolas set the pitcher down by the tray of food. She wasn't really looking at him as much as she was lost in thought. He went to his own tent and sat cross-legged on a blanket. He must have felt her eyes upon him because he glanced up at her. Averting her gaze quickly, Lana busied herself with eating the grapes in front of her.

She missed Legolas' frown. The elf felt his heart sink lower still. The woman still appeared to fear him. Though why this bothered him, he could not say. There were other matters that should have weighed more on his heart.

Aragorn stood from where he had been sharpening his sword. Lana watched as he moved over to Boromir. The man sat with his back to the camp. He seemed particularly withdrawn this evening.

"Take some rest," Aragorn said to him. "These borders are well protected."

"I will find no rest here," Boromir replied shortly. Aragorn turned in surprise at the intensity of the man's tone. "I heard _her_ voice inside my head…She spoke of my father and the fall of Gondor. She said to me, 'even now there is hope left.'" Boromir shook his head heavily. "But I cannot see it."

Glancing over his shoulder at the camp, Aragorn's eyes connected with Lana's momentarily. She pulled her gaze away. Then Aragorn lowered himself to the great root on which Boromir sat.

"My father is a noble man," Boromir continued, unaware of Lana's interest. "But his rule is failing and our…our people lose faith." He looked down at his hands. "He looks to me to make things right, and I would do it! I would see the glory of Gondor restored."

Aragorn shifted, a bit uneasy with the conversation.

"Have you ever seen it Aragorn? The white tower of Ecthelion, glimmering like a spike of pearl and silver; its banners caught high in the morning breeze." Boromir's eyes were glazed with fond memory. "Have you ever been called home, to the clear ringing of silver trumpets?" He looked earnestly at the Ranger.

Slowly Aragorn dipped his head in acknowledgment. "I have seen the White City. Long ago."

Boromir smiled and then clapped a friendly hand on his shoulder. "One day our paths will lead us there, and the tower guard shall take up the call that the Lords of Gondor have returned!" He squeezed the man's shoulder.

It was then Boromir caught Lana watching them. Immediately his irritation flared. He had seen her enter the camp looking refreshed and surprisingly fair. It had been all he could do to arrest his eyes from her feminine figure. Even now her eyes seemed to gleam like those damned elves! Witchcraft—he was certain of it now!

This further fueled his anger.

"Do you have no manners?" He snapped at her. "Did no one in your land teach you that eavesdropping is discourteous?"

The woman jolted, surprised by the animosity, then recovered. She was about to reply, but Aragorn stood. "It is late, and we have had a long and hard journey here. Let us all rest and put our hearts and mind at ease."

Boromir frowned. It seemed the Ranger was taking her side again, but he was far too weary to argue. He bid the other man a stiff good night and retired to his tent.

Lana had drawn back at Boromir's words and she now stared down at her hands and fingered the long sleeves of her dress. Aragorn sighed and sat next to her.

"I'm sorry; I didn't mean to be rude," she said softly still toying with her sleeves. "It's just…everything I hear is a clue to help me understand this place." She finished with a sigh.

Aragorn nodded and gave her a muted smile. She returned the gesture.

"Fear not. I understand."

He sensed her curiosity bubbling forth and only a few moments later she asked him, "Boromir said 'the Lords of Gondor.' Are you lords then?"

"Boromir is the son of the Steward of Gondor, who rules over the people of Gondor. I am merely a Ranger of the north."

"You humble yourself, Estel."

They turned to see Legolas had risen from his tent and moved to join them. The Ranger shook his head softly. _"Daro_ , Legolas."

A look passed between them and the elf nodded in understanding. His heritage was not one to idly discussed, especially in front of a foreigner. Such information could be dangerous if it managed to fall into the wrong ears.

Lana, however, had stiffened defensively. Irrationally she felt that spurt of fear that came whenever an elf approached, and it made her irritated.

"How did you hear us? You were all the way on the other side of the camp." She dared to look into his eyes. "And how is that we can never hear you coming? It's like you don't make a sound at all!"

Legolas smiled. Her crossness amused him slightly. "Elves have superior senses to those of mortals, and we are light on our feet, _hiril nín."_

_Fantastic_ , Lana thought. Super hearing and super sight. _Which means nothing can get past this guy._ He was like some sort of superhero, minus the colorful tights and cape. She half wondered if he had heat vision too! His eyes seemed to burn her after all.

"May I join you?" He inquired politely.

Aragorn nodded genially. "Of course, _mellon nín."_

As he sat across from them, Lana stiffened further. _And he probably noticed that!_ Feeling very uncomfortable now, she started twirling her loose hair around her finger and kept her eyes on the honey blond strands.

The Ranger and elf were talking about something, but Lana lost track of the conversation. Around and around she spun her hair on her finger. Unable to take it any longer she gave a spurious yawn. She hoped that it wasn't too transparent.

"I…I think I'm going go to bed." She fumbled. Then rising she said, "I'll see you in the morning."

She gave Aragorn a nervous smile, glanced hesitantly at Legolas then beat a hasty retreat to her tent. The two watched her odd behavior until she pulled the sides of her tent down. Aragorn caught the look Legolas gave him.

The elf was frowning openly now. "She fears me."

"Nay, Legolas,"

"Aye," the elf countered sullenly.

Aragorn sighed, not having the strength of will to argue.

"Why, when I have done nothing to harm her?" The frustration was tinged with dejection in the elf's soft tones.

The man rubbed his jaw thinking, then shook his head. "I do not know."

Legolas, still persisting said, "I wish to offer her friendship, but she will not allow it."

The Ranger looked at his friend. Legolas was one who could trust easily once it was earned. Aragorn knew that he enjoyed creating new friendships. For all his heritage, Legolas had an inquisitive mind that had been honed over the last sixty odd years—much to his father's chagrin.

It plain to see that the elf wanted to befriend Lana, but she was proving to be more difficult than Aragorn originally thought she would be. She was an enigma. _In more ways than one_. One thing was certain, though: her unwillingness to trust Legolas hurt the elf.

"Give her time, Legolas," he told him, not knowing what else to say. "She does not know this world; its people, languages, and history are all new for her. She feels confused and alone. I am certain that with time she will come around."

Legolas nodded absently, but something nagged at him like a pesky insect. Why did she fear _him_ and not Gimli or the hobbits? She had clearly stated that she hadn't met either of those races before either.

His chest fell as he exhaled tiredly. His heart ached from the lamentation in the air, the loss of Gandalf, and now Lana's continued panic over him. He was surprised to admit to that he missed Mirkwood. And even his heavy-handed father. He was far from home and now he was part of something so much bigger than himself. He needed to rest both mentally and physically for the journey ahead.

"How long will we stay in Lothlórien?" He asked the Ranger.

Aragorn rubbed the stubble on his jaw, thinking. "Perhaps a month…maybe more." Aragorn replied. "We need rest. Lana needs training and the hobbits could do with more as well. I will speak to Haldir about the matter. Perhaps he will be kind enough to ask the Lord and Lady of the Wood. I do not wish to impose."

Legolas nodded. Aragorn would be a good king one day he noted. His consideration of others was proof of that. They sat in companionable silence for a little while longer then Legolas rose.

_"Maerdû, mellon nín." Good night, my friend._

Aragorn smiled wearily. _"Mae idh."_ Rest well.

* * *

_Are you enjoying the story so far?_

_Thanks for reading!_


	7. Tighten Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please read the author's note for disclaimer and explanation of this story.
> 
> I make no claim to Tolkien's works. I also give credit to Cormak3032.
> 
> Thank you all who have sent me comments! I'm so thrilled you are enjoying the story.

 

* * *

**Chapter 7: Tighten Up**

The following morning Lana was awakened by the sound of the hobbits' chatter. Rising she slipped on the elven dress once more and joined the boisterous creatures for breakfast.

Food was yet again the main topic for discussion. She had noticed that hobbits had quite an appetite and if they were not eating they were talking about food. She listened to them go on and on about their favorite breakfast items. One of these was bacon. The word made her mouth water. However fruit, bread and butter were on the menu this morning. She savored the flaky goodness of her pastry wondering if it was truly that good or if her starved body made it so.

Aragorn eventually joined her where she sat. "Tomorrow, I wish to begin your training."

He saw her tense at his words. Her jaw locked, as she seemed to be grinding her teeth. He could also see her heels digging in with stubbornness.

"We need to develop your strength and stamina." He continued, ignoring her standoffish mood. "You will join me for a run every morning before or after breakfast; the choice is yours. And when you have become stronger, we will start more rigorous training."

Lana wrinkled her nose and tried to dissuade him. Although she knew it would be a lost cause.

"Can I choose _not_ to do this?"

"I offer this training for your own good. Not training is _not_ an option. You must do this if you wish to survive."

She sighed, and then gave him an ironic smile. "Yeah, yeah, I know. But you can't blame a girl for tryin'."

He smiled quietly and patted her on the shoulder. At least she had a sense of humor. Although it was quite dry and sarcastic, he would take it over the brooding she seemed to wallow in.

"Strider, there's someone here to see you," Merry said.

The two humans looked over their shoulders to see the formidable Haldir standing by the hobbit. Aragorn rose and greeted the March Warden warmly.

_"Mae govannen, Haldir."_

_"Aníroch peded?"_ Haldir inquired. _You wish to speak?_

Aragorn nodded and put a hand on Haldir's shoulder ready to lead him to a more private location where they could talk. But the elf did not move. He was observing the mortal woman with an interested look.

Aragorn knew that elves were attracted to beautiful things—and though mortal, Lana was not unattractive. There was an exotic look to her for her bone structure and coloring was not like the mortals of the north or west. Fair with richly golden hair she looked to be of Rohan. Yet the shape of her face and eyes were different.

Eyes of deep blue, were cat-like in their shape, and they looked out on the world with intelligence and more than a little distrust. She was slender but more full figured than an elf. Her oval face and dark blue eyes were alluring. It was no wonder that Haldir paused to look at her.

Putting on an enchanting smile, Haldir bowed to her politely and said, _"Suilad, hiril nín. Pedich i lam edhellen?" Greetings, my lady. Do you speak Elvish?_

Lana blinked.

"Nay she does not speak Elvish, Haldir," Aragorn answered for her.

Haldir dipped his head in acknowledgment. "Forgive me, my lady. As a friend of Aragorn's, I assumed you spoke our tongue. I hope you are feeling as refreshed as you look." He complimented her and perused her with a lingering glance.

Lana did not say a word, but her cheeks started to color.

"Does she know how to speak?" Haldir asked the Ranger with concern.

"Aye, she is choosing not to." He frowned at Lana.

Visibly shaking herself, she found her voice. "I'm sorry…I didn't mean to be rude." She said softly. Strangely she looked away from Haldir's penetrating gaze. "It…uh…it is nice to meet you. Um…excuse me."

She rose and beat a hasty retreat to her tent.

 _"Goheno i adaneth, mellon nín,"_ Aragorn said. "She is not herself," he added apologetically. _Forgive the woman, my friend._

Haldir nodded and then followed the man out of the camp.

Lana watched their shadows until they disappeared. Releasing a pent up breath she rubbed both her temples in agitation. She didn't know how much more of this she could take. Her fear was irrational and it made her angry.

She was well traveled and had been in situations that would make any normal person shudder. For goodness sake, she had stood in bombed out buildings while snipers shot at her, held the hand of a boy who died from stepping on a mine, and endured captivity! But a new race of beings that were supposedly "elves" made her shake in her boots? It was preposterous!

Annoyed with herself she pulled her hair back into a tail then rolled up two sides of her tent. Then she occupied herself by going through her bag and taking an inventory.

Aragorn was gone for most of the day. He only returned in time for dinner. He did not say a word to Lana about her behavior that morning, but he watched her covertly as he entered the camp. She was keeping to herself though. Not ready to tackle her issues, he sat himself down next to Legolas.

"How did things go with the Marchwarden?"

"Very well. He spoke to the Lord and Lady and they have graciously granted us all the time we would like here. I believe a month should be sufficient."

Legolas nodded in agreement. "A month is enough time to rest our minds and bodies."

"Aye."

The Ranger began to eat his meal. He looked up at Lana again. She was currently sitting off by herself. She sat with her back against a tree. As he watched her, he saw that she kept glancing up at the fountain then toward a book in her lap. Mentally he shook his head. She was an odd woman.

Swallowing a mouthful of cold cuts he said, "I have learned that it is not you personally that she fears."

Legolas glanced at Aragorn then followed his gaze to the mortal woman. The Ranger then looked at him.

"How do you know this?" Legolas asked, unable to deny his curiosity.

"She shied away from Haldir this morning. You could ask the hobbits and they would tell you the same. I have also noticed that she keeps away from any elves that enter the camp."

Legolas' brows drew together. "She fears my people," he realized aloud. Although this was a terrible thing, it did make him feel somewhat better. It was not _him_ that she feared.

"That is how it appears," Aragorn said.

"Why?" Legolas wondered aloud. He was now more confused than ever by the woman.

"I don't know," Aragorn said softly. His gaze rested on Lana again.

Later that night, Aragorn found her in the small clearing near their camp. She was leaning against a tree staring up to the night sky that appeared through the canopy.

"You should be resting. You have not had enough sleep," he told her.

It was true. There were shadows under her eyes.

"The stars," she said, her gaze still searching the heavens. "They're…they're exactly where they should be..." Confusion and anxiety radiated from her.

"What is it that frightens you?" He asked, ignoring her strange words.

Lana turned to him in muted surprise.

"Something here frightens you. You draw further into yourself. I am beginning to doubt that only your grief causes this."

Lana pursed her lips and looked away.

"You have to trust us _all_ some time." He pushed.

"Look Aragorn, I'm very far from my home, and I'm still struggling to come to terms with that. This is not like being a new country or even just going back in time. (As if that was possible!)" She muttered under her breath. "I'm completely out of my element here…I'm an outsider in every sense of the word." She threw up her hands in frustration.

"But you do not have to be. Why do you persist in this?"

She hugged herself and paced a bit. Stopping she glanced at Aragorn. Her lips were twisted in exasperation.

"I used to be efficient, useful— _capable_." She gestured emphatically with her hands as she talked. "I knew what to do with myself, even in strangest situations. I was a _war_ correspondent for goodness sake! But here…" she seemed to deflate. "Here I am a _burden_. And I hate that. I don't know how to fight or defend myself, let alone others. That was never my job! I'm not warrior. I am not a soldier."

Hearing the words aloud made it all seem so much more real to her now. Of course she had been through conflict zone training, but that was all about how to survive in a disaster situation with guns and IEDs, and what to do if you found yourself shot or kidnapped.

Given all that she had survived before she had firmly believed that she was mentally strong and resilient. Now she wasn't so sure. Jumping realities could do that she mused with ironic humor.

Aragorn put his hand on her shoulder. "We will teach you to fight. Soon I will show you the ways of the blade and Legolas will teach you archery." He noticed how she stiffened at the mention of the elf, but he did not call attention to it. "You will become a skilled fighter in time."

Lana lifted a brow. "I'm not so sure. I'm not very strong—physically speaking."

"You will grow stronger in time, both in body and in mind."

Instructing her to seek rest he left her. The next day would be trying for both of them.

At dawn the following morning Aragorn roused her. She glared at him evilly but silently obeyed his command to get up. Foregoing the dress she slipped into her yoga clothes. The skintight leggings and camisole were probably scandalous in this land, but she didn't give a damn. But in an effort to not be completely disreputable, she also donned a gray long sleeved shirt. Pulling the hood over her head she mentally played the _Rocky_ theme song in her mind. Rolling her eyes at her own ridiculousness she left the tent.

She jogged after Aragorn, following him around Lothlórien. He was difficult to keep up with, and he pushed her hard. In her head she swore repeatedly at him; obscenities resounded with every step. She _loathed_ running. That was what her brother excelled at, but not her. Still she was determined to prove that she wasn't some whiny incompetent woman.

But as time wore on her mental insults grew more colorful. The barrage of words became her mantra. _Fucking bastard._

Aragorn tried to show her how to tread quietly for a human and he watched as she failed miserably. Her panting alone was enough to give her away, let alone her heavy footfalls. Her feet smacked the earth violently. Then she tripped over a root nearly eating dirt. She swore profusely. Mentally he shook his head. He definitely had his work cut for him.

Each morning before breakfast they went running together. And despite Lana declaring vehemently how much she loathed running, she slowly improved. After running, she would bathe, eat a late breakfast and then typically keep to herself. Always in the afternoon she would nap, but if she wasn't doing that she was fiddling around in her bag.

The hobbits and Gimli engaged with her more and more. Slowly she was coming around. It wasn't possible to keep up a wall around the hobbits. They were far too inquisitive. And Gimli was fond of storytelling. Between them they managed to pry some stories from the woman. She was an excellent storyteller.

On top of that they learned that she had many strange and seemingly random facts. For example: she enjoyed food with as much passion as the hobbits; and that she had a dry sarcastic sense of humor that could take paint off a wall. It was taking time but she was opening herself up cautiously to them.

She and Boromir continued to bicker with each other, much to Aragorn's disapproval. Usually, Boromir would make a snide remark or look at her "the wrong way" as she put it. Then she would retort and it would escalate from there. Her wit would cut like a blade as she argued with the man.

However, despite Boromir's vociferous disapproval of her, she was not blind to his looks. She could feel his eyes following her and that aggravated her to no end. She had half a mind to beat the crap out of him just to teach him a lesson. However, she knew that she would definitely lose that battle. He could easily overpower her and she wasn't sure he would hold back in a fight. So she ignored him as much as she could; until she exploded at him in a fiery tirade.

As for Frodo, he tended to keep to himself. He rarely spoke to Lana, and she didn't go out of her way to befriend him either. There was a strange aura around him that she couldn't place. It bothered her, especially when she caught herself watching him for inexplicable reasons.

On one insignificant afternoon only Lana, Gimli, and Legolas were in the camp. The dwarf regularly engaged her in conversation nowadays. Surprisingly to her, he was quite easy to talk to. He had a gruff pragmatism that reminded her of an old Scotsman she knew. Though rough on the edges, he was quick-witted and enjoyed spinning a good yarn.

And as with most dwarves he loved a good story. He was enchanted by the tales of her world and had asked her to tell him more, and always in greater detail. He was particularly interested in the architecture of her world and the material she called "cement." This day, however, she was attempting to explain cars to him. It wasn't going so well.

"Transportation that is run by lightening and machinery; that does not require food or water, and can travel great distances at high speeds with no rest? 'Tis but a fanciful tale that you wave, lassie." He told her with a laugh.

Miffed she by his easy dismissal of her words, Lana glared at him. He could at least have an open mind! Was it too much to ask?

"You don't believe me?" Her tone was hard with disappointment and anger. Annoyed she rose in huff.

Gimli's bushy brows lifted as he suddenly realized that what he said might have been a mistake. "I never said that, lass, I—"

Ignoring him, Lana stormed off. Grabbing her bag and left the camp to seek the solitude of the trees.

Legolas looked up from feathering arrows and gave Gimli a punitive glare. Today had been the first time that the mortal woman had begun to open up while in his presence. He usually kept out of her way and she kept out of his, but today they had tolerated each other's company.

"She is at last beginning to open up to us. And she is attempting to trust us but you may have lost that trust with your foolish words." He told him testily.

"I did not mean to offend her," Gimli groused defensively. "But not even you can deny that her tale is tall."

"Her tales may sound tall, but she comes from a different world. They may yet be true."

The dwarf crossed his arms with a _hmph!_ "You don't have the right to reprimand me, _elf_ ; even you don't believe them."

"That is where you are wrong, _dwarf_. I do believe her." Legolas leveled a hard look at him. Then he returned his attention to his arrows.

o0o

Lana sat among the trees for a long while. Her temper burned even though she knew her behavior was uncalled for. She knew it was too much to ask these people to understand. All in all, they listened with rapt interest. But did they actually believe her? Now she wasn't so sure.

How could they believe her? They have no reference point. She had yet to see anything more advanced than a bow and arrow. The things she did speak of must sound like magic to them—even if she explained the science to the best of her ability. Lana sighed. She doubted if any of these people even had a printing press. So how could she possibly expect them to comprehend cars, electricity, or the internet?

So lost in her thoughts she was that she did not hear Gimli coming behind her. "I didn't realize you were so talented, lass."

With startled gasp, she slammed the book in her lap closed. Her cheeks turned pink with mortification.

"There's no need to hide that. You have quite a talent."

"You shouldn't sneak up on people like that, Gimli. You're just as bad as Legolas." She said peevishly.

The dwarf snorted at that and crossed his arms over his broad chest. "Don't start comparing me to the elf. You were lost in thought. I came to apologize for upsetting you. I _do_ believe you, lass. 'Tis difficult to comprehend the wonders of your world; I find such machinery inconceivable."

Lana felt her temper melt away. Perhaps these people were more self-aware than she gave them credit for. "No worries, Gimli," she gave him a lopsided smile. "I guess I'm a bit moody. Sorry for being bitc—uh, snappish."

Mentally she chastised herself for nearly swearing aloud. She had noted the more refined vocabulary of the company and had been trying to curb her sailor's tongue.

"Shall we call it a truce then?" Gimli held out his hand to her.

Grinning softly she took his proffered armistice. "Truce."

Both of them feeling better now, Gimli glanced at her sketchbook curiously. "May I see your work?"

Lana considered his request for a moment. She knew that sooner or later someone was going to catch her doodling. And now she had been caught. Thankfully it was only Gimli.

"Well? Let's see it then," he said gruffly nudging the book.

She hesitated a moment more but then shrugged and handed it to him. Gimli took it and sat on a root next to her. Flipping through the pages he frowned.

"These are people, but I've never seen people like them before. What are they doing?" Gimli tried turning the book another way but it didn't help him understand what he was seeing.

Lana chuckled lightly and righted the book for him.

"They're ice skating." At his bewildered look she elaborated. "Some friends of mine dragged me with them, but I twisted my ankle so I sat out. I sketched the people while I waited for my friends to finish."

"They are walking on ice? Are they elves?" He was thoroughly confused. When Lana shook her head he persisted, "Then how can they walk on the ice without falling through?"

"It's a manmade structure. The ice is only a few inches thick. You can't fall through it."

"Ah," he replied, but clearly he didn't understand.

Flipping the pages he studied her landscape drawings: cityscapes, cars, buildings, and people in various situations. There were also many drawings of animals, some recognizable and others not. Some of them were even in color.

"You draw many things." His eyes were warm as he smiled through his beard.

"I like to sketch," She said nonchalantly.

"It's obvious," he told her with a smile. Turning the next page he grinned with delight. "It's the hobbits! Merry and Pippin—it looks just like their wee selves."

Lana grinned at his enthusiasm.

"And you've drawn Aragorn and Boromir and… _that_ ," he smiled broadly. "Now that is a very handsome dwarf. Look at that lovely bushy beard and the powerful build."

Lana chuckled at his enthusiasm and he laughed along with her. As Gimli went turn the page she tried to snatch the book out of his hands.

"The rest is largely unfinished," she said, her calm tone betrayed by her sudden dash for the book.

"But I want to see the rest." He moved it out of her reach.

The commotion caught Aragorn's attention who had just returned from training the hobbits. "Are the two of you fighting?" He asked with a frown.

"No, we're not," Lana replied in an even tone that was forced. Curbing her irritation she said, "Gimli, may I please have my sketchbook back?"

"You need to see these, Aragorn," the dwarf said ignoring her. "She is a fine artist. She has drawn portraits of us."

Lana sighed and became increasingly aggravated. Her fingers dug into her hair as she raked it out of her face.

Intrigued Aragorn moved to retrieve the book from the dwarf's hands. He turned the pages of the hardcover leather-bound book, lingering on the drawings of him and his companions. He noted the sketches of Lothlórien, the trees, some of the tents and the fountain he had seen her staring at several days ago. He smiled at her.

"These are very good," He said looking into her eyes.

"Thank you. May I have it back now?" Lana forced a smile, even as her heart rate increased with her sudden anxiety.

"I've not finished seeing the rest," Aragorn protested.

Lana pursed her lips. She felt indecisive. Dare she try and take the book back? It would only make the situation worse she decided, but that did little to abate her disquiet. She began began to twist the ends of her hair around her finger.

"What's going on?" Pippin asked. Merry was by his side and the two were snacking on apples. Lana groaned internally.

"She has drawn your portraits, young hobbits. Come and see them," Gimli announced and he gestured for them to have a look.

Lana made a tight fist around her hair and pulled a little.

Aragorn kneeled down to share the book with the hobbits, starting from the beginning.

"These are wonderful!" Merry told her looking at her drawings of trees and animals.

"Look Merry, she drew us!" Pippin exclaimed as the page with their portraits came into view. He turned the page to look at the drawings of Boromir, Gimli, and Aragorn.

"I haven't really finished the rest. Can I have it back now, please?" She tried again.

Aragorn looked up at her and noticed that she seemed almost panicked by the idea of them turning the page. What was she hiding?

"We don't mind!" Pippin told her happily and turned the page.

Then it was clear to the Ranger why she was so agitated. Over the next two pages were drawings of Legolas. There were only four, but he could tell that she spent a lot of time working on these and far less on the other drawings. There was a profile, two of him standing in the tree line lost in thought, and one of him sitting on a log with a plate of food in front of him.

"Why do you have four drawings of Legolas, and only one of the rest of us?" Pippin asked petulantly.

Legolas who was still making arrows glanced up at the sound of his name. He had been listening to what was going on and had even looked up a few times, but now he stared openly.

Lana felt her cheeks go red. "He's the only one who is still long enough for me to sketch him properly," she mumbled.

Gimli laughed. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say the elf has caught the lassie's eye!" He teased.

Lana's eyes grew wide. "He has _not!_ I told you, he's the only one that sits still!"

She snatched the book from the unsuspecting hobbits and clutched it protectively as she stood over them. Her dark blue eyes grew darker with her embarrassment and irritation.

"Oh come now! I was only teasing you," Gimli told her.

Lana turned her face away, not willing to face any of them at the moment.

"I was jesting!" Gimli tried again. "I did not mean anything by it. Please forgive me, lass."

Lana sighed knowing that she was acting churlish. _Again_. "It—it's alright. I'm still just…moody."

"You should show those to Legolas. I'm sure he'd like to see them." Merry suggested.

She looked down at the rakish hobbit. Her reply was flat as her expression. "No."

"But why not?" Pippin asked bewilderedly.

Lana glanced over to where Legolas was making arrows. She was horrified to see that he was watching them all intently. His eyes met hers causing every hair on her body to stand up. With his super hearing he'd no doubt heard what was going on too. She dropped his gaze and noticed that everyone was staring at her. It felt almost like a dare.

Swallowing she glanced at Legolas again. Forcing herself to hold his gaze for a moment she actually started thinking about bringing him the book. What was she so afraid of anyway? They were just drawings and everyone else liked their portraits.

Gimli gave her a little shove forward. "Go on, lass."

His prompting was like tapping a switch. Instantly she changed her mind. How could she even think of showing her sketchbook to him? It was bad enough that it had been passed around most of the company. It was like her diary! Horrified that she'd even thought about showing it to Legolas, she shook her head resolutely. Then without further ado she snatched up her bag and quickly left the group.

"What was that all about?" Merry asked his brows furrowed in confusion.

Aragorn sighed in consternation. "I do not know, but I intend to find out."

* * *

_Thoughts? Comments? Critiques? As always, many thanks for reading!_


	8. Challenged

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please read the author's note for disclaimer and explanation of this story.
> 
> I make no claims on Tolkien's works. I also give credit to Cormak3032.
> 
> Again, thank you to each and every one of you who have sent me your reviews! It's like candy for this writer! ;)

 

 

* * *

**Chapter 8: Challenged**

The following morning, Aragorn took Lana to a small clearing within the woods after their run. Five days into their stay and he deemed it was time to further her training. Time was of the essence.

Lana was apprehensive about it all and she eyed the scabbard he carried dolefully. He presented it to her. "This will be your sword," he said while unsheathing and holding up the gleaming metal blade. "It was forged by the elves and is light and easy to handle."

Sunlight glanced off the wicked edge and Lana felt her heart starting to thump. A familiar panic sank into her gut.

"I don't know about this," her voice was full of uncertainty that held more meaning that Aragorn knew.

"Perhaps we should start with something smaller?" He suggested.

Placing the sword down he unsheathed his dagger. At the sound of the smaller blade leaving its casing, a sharp terror struck her. Lana felt her vision blur slightly and she staggered backwards. She did not hear Aragorn's voice until he was at her side holding her elbow.

"Lana! Are you well?" She was breathing in short gasps, and her face was very pale. "What is wrong?" Aragorn asked hastily. She wouldn't look him in the eye, but her own were dilated.

She blinked several times and he saw that she was trying to control herself. Inhaling deeply several times she began to calm down. But the dread he had seen in her blue eyes lingered there like a shadow.

"I'm, uh…it's nothing. Nothing." She was frazzled and shook her head as if to clear it. Then she straightened up and lifted her chin. "Let's start with the sword."

Aragorn was more than a bit baffled by her behavior. He eyed her skeptically, but she no longer seemed in danger of fainting. Taking the sword, he handed it to her, watching closely lest she grow pale again.

She took it more ease than he would have thought given her previous reaction to the smaller weapon. He watched as she turned the blade over in her hands. The sword was masterfully crafted and, as with all things elvish, it was beautiful.

"The sword is a gift from Haldir," he told her.

Her eyes widened at this and she looked at him in clear surprise. "It's beautiful," she murmured appreciatively.

"He knew that I wished to train you and that you had no weapons of your own. He gave me this sword to give you, and in a few days time you will have your own bow as well."

She shook her head in awe. "This is too much, I couldn't accept it."

"The sword is yours. You will need it. Moreover, it is considered rude to refuse a gift from the elves."

She met his eyes then nodded. "Please be sure to tell him my thanks then."

Aragorn nodded, gratified. "Are you ready to begin?"

Her mouth twisted slightly, but she nodded.

The first lesson consisted of how to properly position her hands on the hilt and basic footwork. He ran her through the beginner sword positions, numbering each one so she could remember them.

He performed each one with her mirroring him. She was quick to learn and made few mistakes, but this was only the beginning. After thirty minutes, he engaged her in a slow attack. Three times he came at her, and three times her sword clattered to the ground.

While she moved into the positions correctly, she lacked the strength and will to engage in the fight. Something was preventing her from doing so.

"I didn't see this reservation in Moria when the orcs were upon us." He quipped as she stooped to pick up the sword yet again.

"Yeah well, that was life or death. And that was not easy for me to do; especially since I've never killed before."

She was looking defeated. Deciding that they both had enough today, he called it quits. Her homework was to practice the forms he had taught her.

Over the next three days, her performance was mediocre at best. Her wind was improving on their runs, but she seemed disinclined to take her swordsmanship seriously. It was the same problem as always; something was holding her back.

"Pretend that I am an orc," he told her.

She lifted her brow and said rather peevishly, "I'd rather not."

Suppressing the urge to clout her over the head he took a deep breath. "If I were an orc and I came at you would you drop your sword?" He asked in clipped tones.

"If I could drop it, high tail it and live, you bet your bottom dollar that I would," she replied dryly.

"This is unacceptable, Lana! You cannot run and hide. You must face your enemy and slay him."

She made a face. "Maybe I'm not cut out for this," then she wrinkled her nose at the terrible pun. "Besides, I'm a pacifist by nature."

"Pick up the sword and perform the block that I have shown you."

Lana exhaled and grumbled under breath.

"I could have Boromir teach you if you would prefer." He threatened.

"No!" She practically yelped.

"Then give this a bit more effort."

He charged her when she didn't expect him and he was pleased to see her fall into the proper defensive position. And, she didn't drop her sword. Her eyes were wide with shock, but if it was due to her success or his sudden attack he couldn't be sure. But he would take it either way.

"Very good! Now again!"

After that praise, it appeared that Lana was now more invested in her practice. The sound of swords clashing filled the quiet forest with Lana at last growing in confidence. She was finally doing something right.

Aragorn continued to play the aggressor and he was pleased to feel some strength behind her blocks. He then switched it up and had her attack him.

She was surprisingly light on her feet, he noted. And she moved with the grace of a dancer. Still, more practice was needed before she would be a worthy opponent, but he could see her potential.

"At last! You are doing well," he teased lightly, but he was truthful with her. "Are you certain you do not wish to try the dagger? It certainly has its advantages."

She shook her head firmly. "No thank you. I just want to focus on sword work for now."

"Very well, but it is something you will need to learn," he told her after drinking some water. "We have done enough for today," he said. "You may go."

She nodded gratefully. With a small smile, she bid him farewell.

"How goes her training?"

Aragorn turned to see Legolas standing only a couple of meters from him. The elf had his quiver slung over his shoulder while he held his bow in hand. He had just come from the practice fields himself.

Sheathing his sword Aragorn replied. "Very slowly, but she is finally improving. She is as stubborn as a mule and needs to be pushed. But she is growing more confident with each lesson." He gathered up his gear. "I have attempted to teach her how to wield a dagger but she seems to have a fear of them."

"She fears them?" Legolas tilted his head slightly.

"Aye. I thought that perhaps a dagger would be easier for her to start with than a sword. Yet a few days ago when I removed mine for her to use and she reacted strangely. She panicked and nearly swooned. It was quite unexpected. "

"Peculiar. She did not have this reaction with the sword?" Aragorn shook his head. Legolas frowned, puzzled. "Did she explain why she reacted in that way?"

"Nay. She dismissed it and refuses to discuss the matter."

"Intriguing,"

"Indeed. Still, she is doing better with the sword. I believe if I push her more, she will improve further still. She is quick on her feet."

"When do you wish for me to train her with the bow?"

"Soon but not yet. I will inform you."

Legolas nodded. "Have you eaten, _mellon nín?"_

"Nay."

"Then let us break our fast."

o0o

Lana was about ready to punch Boromir in the face. She had returned to the camp to eat before bathing. Merry and Pippin were their usual selves and greeted her warmly. She had felt Boromir's gaze upon her as she sat down next to the hobbits.

It was then that the ever-curious Pippin caught sight of one of her tattoos on her right wrist.

"What's that?" He had asked.

She explained that it was a tattoo. This, of course, brought up a whole discussion of how did one get a tattoo, did it hurt, and so on.

"I don't understand what it says," Merry said holding her wrist and trying to read the letters.

She smiled bemusedly. "That's because it's in Latin."

"Latin?" He gave her a baffled look.

"An ancient language from my home. Here," she turned her wrist so he could read the word the right way around.

_Invictus_. It was tattooed all in lowercase letters in typewriter font.

"It means 'undefeated.'"

She told them that it was based on a poem, but that it also summed up how she strove to live her life. It was at this moment that Boromir had made a snide noise. She glanced up at the man.

"What?"

"The idea that you think yourself 'undefeated' is laughable. You wouldn't be alive now if it were not for us."

"True, but victory can be obtained many ways. Not all of us charge blindly into disaster. Some of us actually think our actions through."

" _Think?_ You seem to hardly possess a logical thought in that head of yours. You are ruled by your fears. You have no place here among us."

Lana bristled with his every word. Yet she said nothing. She didn't want to be drawn into another argument, but Boromir continued to taunt her.

"You may carry that sword around, but you don't know how to wield it,"

"That's why I'm training, you idiot." She snapped back, unable to help herself.

At this point, Aragorn and Legolas appeared from the direction of the training field.

"You are weak. You will never survive—" Boromir goaded.

Lana surged to her feet ready to throw a punch.

"Enough of this! Both of you!" Aragorn barked.

He stepped between Lana and Boromir.

"He started it!" Lana declared childishly. "He's the one who has been acting like a misogynistic pig!"

"I have little interest in who started it," Aragorn barked angrily. "You are both continuing it. Eat your food and keep quiet!"

Lana stared at the Ranger in surprise. Hurt and then shame filled her heart. Having nothing to say she stormed off for the bathhouse.

Gimli made to rise and go after her, but Aragorn forestalled him.

"Let her go," he ordered. "Give her time to think. And you—" he turned a steely gaze on Boromir. The man's smugness wilted under the look, only to be replaced by defensiveness. "You will leave her be. Training her is difficult enough without you getting involved."

Piqued Boromir retorted, "She is going to be the death of us all. Can none of you see that?"

"Give her time, lad. She will be such a fine warrior that none will believe she had never held a sword before." Gimli said. "Aragorn is a brilliant teacher."

Boromir glanced in the direction Lana had taken. "Regardless of who trains her, she is a woman and has no place among us."

"Master Gimli is correct. Lana will be an acceptable warrior by the time we leave Lothlórien. She shows improvements daily. Yes, she has fears and uncertainties, but I have no doubt that she will overcome them. And when she does," Aragorn looked pointedly at the other man. "She will be a worthy opponent."

Not about to give in Boromir remarked, "And how do you know this? Does the mighty Aragorn have the gift of foresight? Am I the only one who sees that she is nothing more than a scared child?"

"Frightened, aye, but not a child. Gandalf believed in her. And so must we." He replied firmly.

Boromir had no reply to that and the conversation ended.

The following morning run between Aragorn and Lana was unduly silent. Having been too upset and humiliated, she had not joined the Fellowship for dinner that night. She had chosen to keep her distance, shunning all companionship.

Instead, she had spent a lot of time in thought. She knew her behavior was uncalled for. Typically she was level headed, but Boromir managed to goad her every time. It was like he had the worst aspects of her brother and every self-important pig she had come across back home—and it made her peevish. It just wasn't in her to be demure and take such insults sitting down.

She had met plenty of chauvinistic morons from all around her world. But due to the often delicate nature of her job she had to swallow her pride and endure the criticisms and slanderous jibs.

Here, for whatever reason, she felt she had to fight back. Perhaps she was desperate to change his opinion of her, or maybe she just wanted to prove a point. Or perhaps since she wasn't physically capable she sought to fight with her sharp mind and tongue. Regardless, it was not becoming a woman of her age or experience to act out like she had been doing.

When they made it to the clearing where they practiced daily Lana, at last, broke the tense silence.

"Aragorn? I want to apologize about yesterday. Boromir just gets under my skin every time. I'm sorry I've not been handling it better." She forced herself to hold his gaze.

"I know this. He has become increasingly agitated while in Lórien. I know not what plagues him, but he seems intent on taking it out on you." He shook his head softly. "It is not right, but I have spoken to him about this. But for now, you should both just keep away from each other."

"Oh, believe me, I intend to," she said sourly.

Seeing her spirited sarcasm return, he smiled. At least she wasn't one to hold a grudge.

"Good," he gestured for her to draw her sword. "Now show me an attack."

She pulled out the blade and it hissed satisfyingly. Recalling each movement she played them out in a secret rhythm in her head. In addition sorting out her anger against Boromir, trying to remember the moments before she woke in Moria, and why she was here at all, Lana had also spent her time choreographing a sword patterns in the hope that she would throw Aragorn off.

Her movements were still slower than the Ranger would have liked, but she wasn't losing her grip on the sword as much. At last, she was making great strides instead of small steps in her training. He was pleased but pushed her harder. Time was short, and he wanted her prepared.

Lana was determined to not let Aragorn beat her quite so soundly today. Drawing on her dormant talent as a dancer and applying them to the techniques the Ranger had been drilling into her, she managed to end their duel with a draw. Although she had a sneaking suspicion that Aragorn allowed it.

For his part, Aragorn was impressed. "Very good!" He said, sheathing his sword. "You have done very well today."

"Only 'very well'? Not spectacularly?" She mock pouted, but secretly she was glowing with his praise.

Aragorn laughed at her antics. "You are not ready to fight on the battlefield, but your technique is much improved. We will continue practicing until you have mastered the sword."

It was Lana's turn to laugh. "That could take _years_."

"We do not have years. We have less than four weeks." He told her in a serious tone.

Her laughter died immediately. "Less a month?" She said incredulously. "You've got to be joking. I can't master the sword in _one_ month!"

"I jest you not. You must learn these skills quickly or you could be injured or killed. We cannot always be here to protect you." He could see the doubt in her eyes, but ignored it, choosing instead to bolster her confidence. "You and I will continue to practice every day, and after lunch, you will begin your archery lessons with Legolas."

She wrinkled her nose. "Can't I just stick with the sword?" She then rubbed her nose in agitation.

"Arrows enable you to kill from a distance. Orcs are strong and you do not have the strength or stamina to fight them hand-to-hand for long. You will need to master the bow as well. It will be an invaluable weapon for you. "

"Can't _you_ teach me the bow? You're skilled with it too."

"Legolas is far superior to me in archery. You could not ask for a better teacher." He admonished. "He will teach you."

"But I don't think—"

"You must get over your fear of him! He is not going to hurt you!" Aragorn snapped at her. Lana drew back at his tone. With a sigh, he ran a hand through his sweat-dampened hair. "Why are you frightened of him?" He asked, trying a new tactic.

Lana glanced down. "I…I don't know. It's not just him, though—it's _all_ of them."

"The elves will not harm you. They are our allies." He remarked, grabbing for all his patience.

She grumbled. "I know, I know…" She didn't look at him but ran a hand through the hair that fell out of her ponytail.

Forcing away his impatience he approached her and took her agitated hands in his. "What is it about Legolas that troubles you so?"

She hesitated as if unable to put her fears into words. "He makes me feel uncomfortable," she started.

_The way he looks at me…It's those damn eyes of his! It's like he can see everything._ Her thoughts made her unfounded fears return to the forefront of her mind, both irritating her and making her tense. The muscles in her neck and shoulders locked up even as she willed them otherwise.

"What about him makes you feel this way?" Aragorn prodded.

"The way he can handle a bow and arrows is inhuman. He never misses his target. He's perfection in solid form and I've never met anyone like that before. Everything he does is flawless, just like him. It's…" She shook her head helplessly. Lana really couldn't put into words why she feared elves. She just did.

"He is an elf. They excel at all they do. It is their nature. You are not the first to feel uncomfortable or intimidated by them."

Lana sighed and paced a little. "I just don't know how to deal with a group of people who are perfect because we humans are _far_ from perfect." She paused then looked at Aragorn keenly. "Why aren't you uncomfortable around them? I see that Boromir is…and Gimli too for that matter."

"I was raised by the elves. I understand them and their ways very well. Boromir was born and raised in Gondor and, therefore, had few dealings with them. As for Gimli, there is a long history of animosity between elves and dwarves."

Lana listened, her curiosity piqued. "You were raised by elves? Well, that explains why you speak like a native." She regarded him with keen interest. "How did you come to live them?"

Memories haunted the man's gaze, making Lana wonder just how old he really was. He looked no older than forty, perhaps forty-five. Yet as she thought about it, she really didn't know that much about him.

"When my father died, my mother brought me to Lord Elrond of Rivendell to keep me safe. She passed away sometime after that."

Surprised Lana didn't know what to say. Her compassion stirred and she pressed a hand to his arm. "I am sorry."

Aragorn glanced down at her hand then into her sincere face. "It was long ago." He was lost in thought for a moment then continued. "You have no reason to fear the elves, especially not Legolas. While it is regrettable that you are uncomfortable around him and his people, you must learn to overcome that fear. He is a traveling companion on this quest and he can teach you valuable skills that can save your life or the life of another."

Taking the hand that she had retracted into his, he peered earnestly into her uncertain eyes. "Will you not try to bury that fear and learn from him?"

Lana wrinkled her nose in her habitual manner of when she didn't like something, but Aragorn gave her a brotherly look that was actually quite persuasive.

"Fine! Damn your eyes," She huffed out dramatically. Then she gave him a sidelong smile. "I'll try."

A chuckle escaped his throat. He squeezed her hand genially. "Good. You will begin training with him today."

With that, he dropped her hand and quickly left her alone before she could react. Once he was far enough away he burst out laughing. The look on her face had been priceless.

o0o

Lana was fuming and already plotting how she could get Aragorn back. That was a nasty trick! The familiar need to seek sibling revenge infused her thoughts. _Bastard!_ He was going to get it later; she wasn't sure how, but she would. Payback was sweet.

Then all of a sudden her nerves squeezed. She was going to have to be around that _elf!_ Feeling unduly panicked she tried every calming technique she knew. She forced her breathing to slow, but that just made her dizzy. She stretched a bit, but her muscles were too tight. She tried imaging Legolas naked and that backfired completely. _That only works for public speaking stupid!_ It was entirely useless. Her stomach grumbled anxiously.

She was due to meet Legolas on the same practice field she and Aragorn used. Every fiber of her being was protesting, but she had agreed to go through with this and she would. Never let it be said that she was an outright coward! Steeling her nerves she was determined to get it over with.

"Ah, you have made it."

Lana's heart jumped into her throat. Whipping around she saw Legolas standing just a few feet behind her. Time must have slipped past her for she had not realized that it was gone. How long had she been standing in this clearing? Had he _seen_ her freaking out?

Glancing nervously at Legolas she tried to compose her nerves. She had not heard him approach at all, which reminded her of all the differences between herself and elves. He looked as he always did: tall, lithe, and formidable. _Perfection_ …

"Haldir has not brought your bow, so I have borrowed a training bow for you." Legolas moved to hand it to her but frowned slightly as she drew back from him.

"I…I'm not so sure about this. I don't think I can do it." She told him tautly. The words weren't necessarily true. She believed that she couldn't do this with _him_.

"You must learn these skills. With practice, you will become proficient." He offered her the bow again.

This time, she took it but immediately she recoiled her hand, bringing it to her chest. She looked down at the weapon so she didn't have to look him in the eyes. Her bow was simple but elegant, however sneaking a peek Legolas' bow she saw that his was gorgeous.

Her eyes were drawn to it as he pulled it out. The dark wood was inlaid with golden designs. Catching her watching his hands he waited for her to speak, for she surely would. He could see the words swirling just beyond her lips.

"Yours is beautiful," she told him hesitantly. "Where did you get it?"

Pleased that she was trying to be civil, he smiled. "I made it when I was only a youth."

Her eyes grew wide. "You _made_ it?"

"Aye. There was a yew tree in the forest that I always loved to climb. The tree yielded a branch for me and I carved it and made this bow. While it is not the first I ever used, it is certainly my favorite."

She nodded in awe, but Legolas could still see the fear lurking in her deep blue eyes. It troubled him, but he hoped the upcoming lessons would ease her fears.

"Come, I will demonstrate the correct way to hold it." He showed her what to do, first exhibiting with his own bow. He made certain she was paying attention. "You pull back on the string thusly," he said drawing back on his string sans arrow.

Looking at her then, he gestured for her to try. Her throat moved as she swallowed, but she mimicked him. He stepped up to her and began adjusting her posture. She physically jumped as if his touch burned.

"My apologies. I didn't mean to startle you," he retreated a step, holding his hands up. "May I correct your posture, _hiril nín?"_

After glancing at him for a beat she nodded before she could change her mind. As he adjusted her stance he explained why as he did so.

"Your stance must be solid, otherwise your shots will all go wild. But do not be rigid. You must be like a tree—sturdy and strong, but able to bend." Once satisfied that she held the correct pose, he had her draw back on the string. "It should feel as natural as combing your hair," he told her.

Lana grimaced. This felt ridiculous. She _looked_ ridiculous! Her arms trembled slightly for the bowstring was tight. She did not have the upper body strength to hold the position for long. And her muscles were already tired from sword fighting with Aragorn. They were protesting loudly now.

The string rolled out of her fingers, humming with low vibration.

"Again," Legolas commanded softly. He had her repeat this multiple times until he felt certain she had the feel of it in her muscles. _"Maer_. Now I will show you how to place an arrow on the string."

Using his bow once more, he drew an arrow with purposeful exaggeration. He moved deliberately so she could see exactly what he was doing. Placing the arrow on the string he drew back and then released. The arrow shot forward and hit the tree stump on the far end of the field.

"Damn," Lana murmured. His accuracy was incredible.

"Now you will try," he said pulling another arrow from his quiver.

Lana shrank back. "I…I don't know if I can," she mumbled, her nervousness returning.

"I assure you that you can try. It will take much practice, but I am a good teacher, and you will succeed in time."

Lana arched a brow at that. _Maybe he isn't as perfect as I thought._ _He's certainly got that typical male bravado._ Sighing through her nose, she took the arrow and attempted to load it on the string in the way Legolas had demonstrated.

He nodded circling her, adjusting her arms slightly. She was shaking quite a bit which caused him to frown.

"Are you well, _mellon nín?"_

"What…what does that mean? Mel…melon neen," she attempted, trying to keep her mind off the fact that she was feeling incredibly exposed.

_"Mel-lon nín,"_ He pronounced slowly for her. "It means, 'my friend.'" She glanced at him oddly. He could see her mind working and wondered where her thoughts lie. Shoving aside his curiosity he focused on the lesson. "Come. Draw the arrow back."

Lifting her arms she started to draw back, but her fingers slipped and the arrow darted forward only to tumble gracelessly in front of them. Her face flushed.

"It is no matter. Try again." He handed her another arrow. "You must put the arrow between your first two fingers, and pull it back on the string with the first three." He showed her again with his own bow. "This will give you more control. Now pull back with your shoulder, not your arm. This will give you more strength as well as control."

Lana tried to focus on the instructions and block out her uneasiness. Lifting the bow again, she followed through with his steps. The arrow fell out of her hands more than once. Sometimes she pulled back too hard and other times not hard enough. Whatever the case, her irritation grew with each failed attempt.

_This sucks. The sword is better._

Legolas watched her struggle a bit before asking, "Would you allow me to help you?"

Glancing at him, she realized that he was asking her permission instead of just reaching out and positioning her. Swallowing she nodded slowly.

Very gently, Legolas positioned the arrow in her hand, his fingers manipulating hers into the correct formation.

"It feels awkward this way; two fingers are more comfortable," she said, hating how squeaky her voice sounded.

"Three fingers will give you the control you are lacking in addition to strength when drawing back the string. You will grow accustomed to the feel. Soon it will not be uncomfortable." Legolas replied intractably.

Gritting her teeth, Lana willed her temper to stay in check. She kept three fingers on the string, fell into the proper stance and glanced sideways at him. He nodded in approval.

"Good, now relax and close your eyes."

She blinked at him. "Whoa—What? How the hell am I supposed to hit anything—let alone that target—if I can't see where I am aiming?" She immediately fell out of the stance and threw a hand up in exasperation.

"At present, hitting the target does not concern me." He looked down his nose at her. "You must learn to properly hold the bow and release the arrow. You are tense and, therefore, your posture becomes wrong."

"You're too close to me. I need some space," she argued in her defense.

Legolas didn't oblige her, much to her frustration. If anything, he moved closer and shadowed her body with his. His hands covered hers pulling her arms up into the correct posture. His hands covered hers making them hold the proper form.

She could feel his breath on her neck, the warmth of his body against her back. He was strong—solid. The heat from his body felt like it was burning into her back. She could smell him clearly—a forest-like smell mixed with oiled leather, tangy sweat, and something else she couldn't place.

Feeling his body around hers made her want to bolt, but like a prey animal caught within a predator's stare she was frozen. She held her breath trying to calm her racing heart. His proximity was unnerving.

When he spoke, his lips were by her ear. "If the enemy was around you, you could not tell him that he was too close." His voice was low and deadly. "He would kill you without a second thought. You must learn to eliminate distractions. Relax and feel at one with the bow."

Hearing his last words broke some of her tension as she heard another mentor's voice from popular culture. Her sarcasm peaked again in defense. Snorting acerbically she said, "Ok, _Obi-wan;_ the Force be with you too."

Legolas gritted his teeth, the muscles in his jaw jumping from the pressure. He did not know what she was talking about, but he could tell from the tone of her voice that she was not being serious. Ignoring her mockery he persisted.

"Close your eyes," he ordered. She made to protest, but he forestalled her. "Trust me," he whispered.

She turned her head and glanced sideways up at him. He could see the underlying fear that she hid beneath a thick veneer of stubbornness.

Lana stared back, transfixed by the light blue of his eyes. Oddly she felt as if she was standing next to a being of far more experience and age than his physic suggested. She blinked severing the spell.

_Could_ she trust him? She was still uneasy around him—more than uneasy, in fact; but she didn't hate him. He had never done anything to harm intentionally. And let's not forget that he had saved her multiple times in Moria, she reminded herself.

She glanced at his hand that covered hers, holding the bow. His body was around hers almost like a shield as he helped her hold the position. She realized that if she dug her heels in he would not move. He was intending to teach her lesson and would wait her out.

Legolas waited. Finally, the tension ebbed from her body and she closed her eyes.

"Release the arrow."

She did and she heard it strike something. Opening her eyes, she saw the arrow was buried in the center of the tree stump target.

"That was a good shot." He commended stepping back.

Unable to help herself she grinned. "Yes, but you set it up for me." Turning to him she asked almost shyly, "Can I try again? On my own?"

He nodded, pleased that she was now interested. She set up the bow herself and closed her eyes, then fired. The arrow made no sound except for the _whirr_ as it sped through the air. Opening her eyes, she looked at the target. Only the two arrows from earlier could be seen.

"Where did it go?"

"On the ground in front of you. You were too quick and you tried to hard to aim. You must relax and take your time."

"Well, I won't be able to relax if I'm in the middle of a fight," she grumbled, instantly frustrated with herself, but taking it out on him.

"True, but you have time to learn the skill. You needn't worry about battles now. Master this slower pace before going faster. Straighten your back and put your feet a little closer together. They are too far apart."

Of course, his words made sense. But she wanted to get proficient quickly so these lessons could end. Annoyed with how her temper seemed to get away from her, Lana set her jaw and did as he instructed.

"Try another arrow."

She did and this one also did not hit the target. It skidded on the grass and fell to the ground a mere five feet in front of her. She lowered her bow with a frustrated exhalation.

"What am I doing wrong now?"

"You are holding the arrow to the string with two fingers instead of three. And you are trying to hard. Relax and become one with the bow." He stated calmly.

She tried two more times with the same result. The arrows didn't go anywhere near the target.

"Fuck this! I suck," She growled under her breath. Her patience was evaporating like water in a desert. "Big fucking fail." She tossed the loose hair from her eyes.

"Nay. Let us go back to the beginning. I want you to draw back on the string, but do not release it—remember, it should feel as natural as combing your hair."

Not liking this one bit, she lifted the bow again. She wished she were clashing swords with Aragorn instead of this. It was too much to ask for her to become proficient at two weapons at the same time! Besides, Legolas was an absolute pro at archery while she was a complete novice. Setting aside all her other anxieties about elves, it was actually quite intimidating watching him demonstrate his craft.

Didn't he realize how difficult this was for her? _Maybe he does. Maybe this is payback for me acting like a bitch him._ It was food for thought—but later. Now she had to get through this lesson. Falling into position, she lifted a brow and glanced at him, waiting.

"Look at your fingers on the arrow. Do you notice anything?"

"You mean other than the fact that they are shaking?" She spat.

"Aye."

"No," she said crossly.

"You are holding the string again with two fingers."

Whirling on him she said, "I told you that it's more comfortable for me to hold it with two! The third gets in the way, and the string is cutting into my finger."

"Two is incorrect and that is why you are having no control over your arrows. Three fingers." He told her evenly.

Lana ground her teeth but corrected her fingers.

"Good. Now I want you to shoot the arrow. Keep your eyes open this time, and hold the arrow with three fingers—but do not aim."

Her lips thinned, but she did as he told her. Releasing the arrow she watched it dodge through the air and land with a muted thud on the grass. She released a frustrated sigh.

"I'm getting nowhere."

"You cannot expect to move mountains overnight. You are tense and you aimed," he accused.

She spun around to face him. "No, I didn't!"

He gazed at her evenly for a moment. "You did."

"And how would you _know?"_ She challenged churlishly.

Her eyes flashed brightly as her brows lowered over her narrowed gaze. Her chest rose and fell in agitated breaths. It appeared she stood poised for a fight. The deep blue of her gaze was bright as if the glowing hot center of a flame. For once her gaze did not waver or hold a hint of fearful hesitation.

The force of it was, to be honest, incredible. Yet, Legolas held her gaze steadily.

_Gerich fäer vara,_ he thought to himself. A fiery spirit that would no doubt aid her in the months to come, if she could learn to harness her emotions. _You have a fiery spirit._

Observing her, he knew that she was not going to make things easy on him. Aragorn had warned him, but it was another thing entirely to be confronted with her stubbornness. He watched as she put a hand on her hip, clearly waiting in annoyance for his response.

"I know by the path your arrow took through the air, and by the way you clenched your jaw before releasing the string," he told her.

Her eyes brows rose, then she narrowed her eyes again. He was a perceptive bastard, she would give him that much.

Legolas knew that he had gained the upper hand of the conversation, but his intention was not to have a battle of wits with her. "Try again. Relax and do not aim."

She looked at him crossly but knew she was getting nowhere with her immature behavior. She was far too old to be acting like this anyway. _First Boromir, now him. I just can't hold it together, can I?_ Forcing herself to calm down she looked away and inhaled deeply.

Legolas waited tolerantly, watching as she slowly let her temper go and got into position. Her back was straight; her feet were the right distance apart and she held the arrow to the string with three fingers.

When she released the arrow it flew straight and struck the very outer edge of the tree stump target. It was nearly a miss, but the arrow stuck, its tail still wiggling from the impact. She blinked and made a noise of disbelief.

"Good. We will stop for today and resume tomorrow." He said, gathering up his arrows. "Rest. I am certain you will be sore in the morning."

She glanced at him as if she was about to say something, but closed her lips and turned slowly away. Once she glanced behind her as if uncertain of something, but she disappeared down the track.

o0o

The following day she was indeed sore. Her entire body ached. It felt like she had been beaten with a two-by-four. She was surprised to _not_ see bruises everywhere. She ran slowly even though Aragorn coerced her to pick up the pace.

She wanted so badly to skip her sword lesson but knew that she couldn't. And that she shouldn't. However, Aragorn had no pity for her. She would have to learn to fight when she wasn't feeling well or hadn't had enough rest. Life's battles didn't wait for you to feel your best. This much she did know: all too well in fact. She pushed old memories to the very back corner of her mind and closed the door firmly.

_Not now._

Aragorn drove her hard, but he was pleased with her growing progress. She wasn't dropping her sword as much and she was moving faster and with more confidence. There was strength in both her attacks and blocks. As she worked through the pain her muscles gradually began loosened up.

Narrowing her eyes, she felt a flare of rivalry kindle in her heart. Smirking she employed some footwork that she adapted from salsa dancing, hoping to throw him off. She refused to let Aragorn get the upper hand.

Her odd movement indeed momentarily distracted the Ranger. But years of surviving battles meant that there was little that could throw him off. He answered her smirk with one of his own. There were makings of a warrior awakening within her. Aragorn could see it.

Perhaps her greatest asset was her cleverness. What she lacked in strength and size she made up for in agility and creativity. She was quick too, at least until her stamina ran out. But she had yet to disarm him.

Lessons with Legolas in the afternoon were tense once more, and they continued to be the same for the next four days. Her heart would speed up the moment she set eyes on the elf. And instead of concentrating on the lessons she found herself hyper-aware of where he was at any given moment. The feel of his gaze made her skin tingle uncomfortably. It felt like ants crawling on all over her and she unconsciously developed a habit of scratching her skin to try and relieve the itch.

His voice gave her uncomfortable shivers. It was melodic and fair but entirely masculine at the same time. It wasn't a deep voice but it was rich in timbre. Every word was spoken with care it seemed. Whenever he was near, her ears were instantly attuned to him; waiting for him to speak. If she wasn't so damn apprehensive around him she might have suspected she had other feelings for him.

And Lana was sick of it all. If she didn't find a way to overcome her anxiety she was going to go insane. It affected her lessons, it affected her moods, and it affected her everyday thoughts. Damn it all if wasn't affecting even her dreams! She would lie in her tent for hours at night and wonder why she feared the elf so much. She didn't have any reservations about Gimli or the hobbits…just the elves.

It was like they tipped something off in her brain causing warning bells to blare loudly. Though warning of what she could not say. She was a journalist and was naturally curious about other cultures, so her behavior made no sense to her. It was like they were aliens or something. There were many similarities she could list between humans and elves. But no matter how much she reasoned with herself she continued to be absurdly tense around Legolas and his people. And her insecurity made her tetchy.

Today she had been a complete nervous wreck during her archery lesson. Legolas had been nothing but kind and patient. He put up with her moods like a saint while she remained uptight and testy. Staring at the shadows on her tent she released a heavy sigh tainted with a groan.

Aragorn had told her there was nothing to fear and after dealing with Legolas the past few days, it was obvious that he was correct. It was foolish for her to be so skittish around someone who wasn't going to harm her. And she determined that Legolas could never harm anyone, provided they weren't an enemy. It wasn't in his nature she concluded. In fact, she glimpsed curiosity in his eyes when he thought she wasn't looking.

Rolling over in her tent she exhaled deeply. She promised herself that she would make an effort to get past her fears and put all of this behind her.

Besides, her very survival could depend on it.

* * *

_Thank you for reading! As always your thoughts are welcome._


	9. Black Keys and Fading Fears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please read the author's note for disclaimer and explanation of this story.
> 
> I make no claims on Tolkien's works. I also give credit to Cormak3032.
> 
> I'd like to dedicate this chapter to all you wonderful readers (and the Black Keys). ;)
> 
> As always thanks for reading!

**Chapter 9: Black Keys and Fading Fears**

Lana fought to keep herself from growing distracted during her lesson with Aragorn. Her thoughts kept bouncing between her promise to herself from the night before, to home and wondering what her family was doing, and then to her job, before leaping back to Boromir's latest taunt. She couldn't afford the distractions as Aragorn's sword swung at her. Mentally she shoved it all away and forced herself to concentrate on defeating the Ranger at his own game.

As usual, he pushed her hard. He expected great things from her and wouldn't give her an inch. When he did not receive her full attention he would bring his sword in close to her neck or exposed middle. He ran her through her paces until he was satisfied.

She could barely call herself an expert, but wielding her sword was starting to feel somewhat natural. No longer did she hesitate, and she executed her strikes with intention. Her blocks were not very strong and more often than not Aragorn threw his weight against her. He reasoned that her opponents would do the same. Orcs didn't fight fair, he told her every day. It was up to her to use her strengths against them.

Her lesson with Legolas was canceled for that day as the elf was off with his own people. Oddly enough, she felt rather shoved aside, which was of course unreasonable. Legolas was among his kinfolk and given how she felt around him, these new feelings made no sense. Not understanding herself at all she decided to take a long bath and then spend the rest of the day sketching. After all, she didn't get days off here.

Though winter encroached on the lands beyond the wood, in Lothlórien the weather was fair and balmy. This afternoon was pleasantly warm and sunny—a perfect day to relax and catnap. Before long she had dozed off, she was both mentally and physically drained.

"What's on her face?"

Lana bolted straight up at the exclamation, her deep breathing cut short. "Hmm-huh?"

Merry and Pippin were crouched beside her and they looked completely mystified and not a little startled. They both jumped back at her abrupt movement and stared at her wide-eyed, but they quickly recovered from their fright.

"Can you see out of those?" Pippin asked curiously.

Blinking she looked at them oddly until she realized she had fallen asleep with her sunglasses on. Lowering them with one hand she smirked at them.

"Of course. They're sunglasses. They'd be pretty useless if you couldn't see through them." She yawned.

"Sun-glasses?" Merry asked scratching his head.

"Yeah; they're similar to regular glasses that you would use to read."

At their baffled expressions she reiterated. "Like spectacles? You do have those don't you?"

"Oh yes," Pippin said in sudden comprehension. "Old Farmer Maggot had a pair I think. Didn't he, Merry?"

"Of course! I remember now. He did."

Pippin glanced at the sunglasses again which she now folded and put into their case. "Can you really look at the sun with those on?"

Lana chuckled. "Oh no! They're not for looking at the sun, but they help shield your eyes from the glare. When I was lying here earlier the sun was shining down through the leaves and into my eyes, so I put them on."

"Hmm. Sunglasses." Merry said with interest. "What else do you have in that pack of yours?"

"Oh, just a few things. Some clothes like my jeans and couple of shirts, some jewelry…my notebook, which is more or less ruined now."

She pulled out the thick notebook and showed them where Legolas' arrow had punctured it in Moria. The sketchbook, thankfully, escaped that fate, although its cover did sport a rather nice indentation.

"I also have my iPhone, which plays music."

"Eye-fone?" Pippin asked, mystified.

She pulled out the device and started to explain how it worked. They were astounded as the touchscreen lit up and she flipped through the apps.

"You can talk to people from far away? But how?" Merry could hardly believe that this odd glowing rectangle could do such a thing.

"Well it doesn't work here; it relies on a signal and there are no cell phone towers here. But back home, I could call anyone I needed to, and they would answer on their phone. But I used it mostly for storing information, and my music of course."

They were bursting with questions that she answered patiently and with some amusement. When she asked if they would like to hear her music they instantly said yes. She showed them how to put the earbuds in their ears. Selecting a song, she checked the volume then handed the ear-buds to Merry.

He was nervous as he was not quite sure what to expect. When the music started his eyes grew wide. After several moments he smiled.

"THIS IS STRANG MUSIC, BUT I LIKE IT!" He yelled.

Lana burst out laughing while Pippin looked at his cousin in confusion. "Why in the name of the Shire is he yelling? We're right in front of him."

"It's because the music is loud. Do want to listen, Pippin?"

He gave the idea some serious consideration before nodding. Lana removed the earbuds from Merry's ears. "Ok, time to let Pippin have a turn."

Merry looked disappointed. "Oh, do we have to? I was enjoying the strange music. There are instruments that I have never heard before. I liked the twangy one."

"That's the electric guitar. You'd probably be a rock n' roll fan if you were from my world."

Merry's brows drew together. "You listen to the sound of rocks rolling?"

Laughing Lana shook her head. "No silly. Never mind." Still chuckling she handed the ear-buds to Pippin.

Almost to a T, he had the same reaction as Merry. Soon he was tapping one of his large hairy feet to the beat of the music.

"I LIKE THIS!" He yelled.

"Why is he yelling?" Merry asked shooting Pippin an odd look.

Lana could not contain her laughter. The rest of the afternoon was spent listening to music and learning about blues, rock n' roll, and indie rock. She made a special note to point out why a band called the Black Keys was "awesome."

Dinner came far too quickly, and Lana was actually sad to see the afternoon go. She had thoroughly enjoyed sharing a piece of her world with the hobbits. And they seemed to have enjoyed it just as much as she. In fact they were so enthused about it that they had tried to explain the "magical" iPhone to the others. But they were all confused.

Lana laughed to herself as she heard the hobbits humming "Gold On the Ceiling." She was so caught up with the two that she had not noticed when Legolas returned and seated himself beside her.

"What are the hobbits doing?" He asked, watching their antics bemusedly.

Lana jumped and faced him in surprise. "When did you get back?" She blurted before she could stop herself.

Legolas seemed unfazed by the rude question. "A few moments ago," he glanced back at the hobbits who were singing and now dancing.

Lana felt her lips quirk in amusement. "I let them listen to some music on my iPhone this afternoon. They're singing one of the songs I played them."

Legolas was baffled, so Lana reached into the pocket of her jeans and took out the contraption.

"This device can play music. Would you like to listen?"

Legolas stared at the unassuming object. He shot a glance at the hobbits he finally turned back to her. Slowly he nodded. His eyes grew large as the small screen came to life. Selecting the same song that Merry and Pippin were now butchering. She demonstrated how to put the earbuds on then held them out to Legolas. He looked uncertain but did as she told him.

He jumped and his eyes widened further when the loud and strange music filled his head. Lana thought he looked frightened as well as pained. Immediately she turned off the music.

"Are you ok?"

The elf yanked the earbuds off quickly and stared at them as if they were going to attack him. His head was still ringing with the strange sounds.

"Legolas?"

"I do not like that device. It hurts my ears."

Lana frowned. Here she was trying to be nice and reach out—ease a little of the tension between them, but the only thing she succeeded in doing was making their situation worse.

"I'm sorry." She quickly wrapped the earbuds around the device and tucked back into her pocket. Her eyes remained diverted.

Legolas noticed that she looked tense and he immediately felt foolish for how he had reacted—even though the contraption had startled him beyond belief. Still, he felt like a child who had been startled by a loud clap of thunder.

"It is alright. The sound was only too loud for my ears."

She grimaced. "I'm sorry. I forgot that elves have super hearing." He nodded and changed the subject.

"I saw you training with Aragorn this morning. You have come a long way in a short length of time."

"Uhm, thanks." She was curling a loose strand of her hair around her finger. Then she glanced sideways at him and realized that he seemed to be genuine in his praise. Turning to face him she said, "You really think I've come a long way?"

"Aye," he smiled warmly.

Lana carefully inspected the elf next to her trying to see if he was being overly kind or mocking. But she saw only sincerity in his face. Her eyes traveled over him and she noted that he was wearing his quiver. His bow lay by his booted feet. A question that had been nagging her for days surfaced in her mind.

"You said a few days ago that you've had years to practice archery. How long exactly have you been practicing?"

Legolas grinned. "I received my first bow from my parents when I was only a lad. I was thirteen."

She nodded thinking. "So, what? Like fifteen years or so?" He didn't look that old. She guessed he was somewhere between twenty-five or thirty. She herself was twenty-nine, and he didn't look that much older than her.

Legolas laughed. "2,919 years."

Lana blinked blankly, her mouth falling open. "Uh, did you just say 2,000?"

"Aye, and nine hundred and nineteen," He told her warmly.

"Holy shit! Just how old are you?"

"I'm 2,931."

She made a sound of disbelief. "That's…that's unbelievable." Then she looked him over with a keen eye. "You're joking aren't you? Any minute now you're going to start laughing at me and tell me that I'm a gullible human." She wagged a finger at him. "You're trying to pull the wool over my eyes."

Legolas blinked. "Nay, I have no wool to pull over your eyes," he replied in pure confusion.

Lana ended up laughing instead of him. "Never mind. It's just an expression."

"Ah. I am not familiar with it."

She flapped the comment away. "So you're really 2,931?"

"'Tis my true age."

Her nose wrinkled as she made a face. "Geez, you're ancient!"

He laughed with her and the sound was delightful to hear. "I may seem ancient to a mortal but I am young compared to many elves. We are immortal after all."

She stared blankly at him again. "You're immortal?" Her voice was thick with incredulity. "As in you can't die?"

"Elves can die…in a sense. We can cease to exist on this earth if we are slain, or we can fade away with severe grief. But even when our body cease to exist here, our spirit dwells in the Halls of Mandos, unless called forth again."

She cocked her head. "The Halls of Mandos? What is that? Your afterlife?"

"It is where our spirits rest until the world ends or it is born again."

She nodded comparing this with the mythologies she knew. Curiosity now piqued she found her inhibitions regarding Legolas starting to dwindle as her interest in foreign cultures resurfaced. She loved mythology. That was why she had studied ancient the western classics as an undergraduate.

She was about to ask him more questions but froze sensing a discordant feeling crawling over her skin. Looking across the camp she saw Boromir watching them with considerable interest.

"Still pretending to be a warrior?" He quipped acidly when their eyes met.

Lana narrowed her gaze dangerously but chose to ignore the man. She refused to stoop to his level. She had done enough of that already. Turning back to Legolas she said, "If you'd excuse me, Legolas. I'm going to get some fresh air."

"You have not eaten," he noted with concern.

"I seem to have lost my appetite," she replied in clipped tones as she shot a searing look Boromir's way.

Much later she returned to fetch her sketchbook and moved off near the fountain that she enjoyed watching. The sound of the water was soothing and she felt settled after her walk. The night was mild so she wore her lightweight yoga clothes and her fleece-lined hoodie. The tears in her clothes had been mended and they were almost as good as new.

It felt good to wear her own clothing instead of the silky nightgown the elves offered to her. While she enjoyed pretending to be a princess, the dress felt impractical. The nightgown would bunch up around her legs in the middle of the night and she would wake up tangled in it. Not to mention, it made her feel like a Victorian prude. Not at all her style.

Opening her sketchbook, her thoughts circled back to Boromir. She didn't know what his problem with her was now. As usual he seemed intent on picking a fight with her.

She recalled one encounter a couple of days previous when he had accosted her on her way back from the bathhouse. Her hair had been wet and the water dripped making her black camisole damp. She had decided to not wear her bra and was far enough from camp that she didn't feel the need to don her long-sleeved shirt yet.

She had noticed the medieval sensibilities of those around her and knew she was pushing boundaries with her skintight clothes. The last thing she wanted to do was cause a greater scandal by exposing herself indecently. On top of that, she was the only female in a group of eight males. While they all had been polite she didn't want to give them any ideas.

But it was liberating to not wear so many layers. And she didn't want her long-sleeve yoga shirt to get sopping wet from her hair. Being far enough from the camp she felt confident that she wouldn't run into anyone. As she walked back the cool air had kissed her heated skin and it felt good.

"Do all women in your land dress like that, or just you?"

His condescending voice had startled her out of her good mood. Immediately her eyes snapped to his. He had his sword and shield and appeared to be on his way towards the field they used for training.

"A good afternoon to you too." She quipped with insincere sweetness.

His dark brown eyes had narrowed and he scowled as he looked her over. "It seems you're immodest as well as incompetent."

Wishing to throw a punch she curled her hands into fists. Instead, she crossed her arms and eyed him cynically. "What's the matter, Captain America? Unnerved by the fact that I have an actual body under my clothes? Newsflash for you, all women look something similar to this."

He approached her slowly as if stalking prey "You think your bravado will save you? Wit doesn't win battles."

"No?" She intoned in fake surprise. Lifting her hand to cover her spurious lips she exclaimed, "Well shit, I'll have to rethink my entire survival strategy!"

Rolling her eyes she tried to move past him, but his hand lashed out catching her wrist. Suppressing her gut instinct to kick him between the legs she settled for a dark scowl.

"You had better watch yourself, _witch_. These are perilous days and those who are trustworthy are fewer still. If I so much as catch you casting your net," he squeezed her wrist tightly.

But Lana refused to give him the satisfaction of a grimace. "Let go of me, Boromir," she ordered in a dangerous tone.

He held her tight for a moment longer then released her. She stepped back and drew herself up to her full height. She was still shorter than him by six inches at least, but she knew how to intimidate when necessity called for it.

"If you so much as touch me again I will show you just how much hurt I can do. I've dealt with enough dogs in my life, and I can sure as hell deal with you."

His eyes raked over her, and warning bells went off in her head. She had seen a look like that before and it had not led to good things.

"Are you so certain?" He stepped closer. "All I see is a scared maid who is in far too deep."

Annoyed, alarmed, and angry she stepped around him. "Go fuck yourself!" She spat and then returned to camp as quickly as she could.

After that encounter she kept a wary eye on Boromir. That look in his eyes made her shiver anew just thinking about it. While she had no doubt she could cause him major damage should he decide to force himself upon her, there was not a chance she could overpower him.

That evening she had caught the same licentious look in his eyes. It made her feel exposed and unsafe, as well as angry. She didn't like feeling powerless. While she mostly certain Boromir would never try anything with the rest of the Fellowship around, she was half tempted to ask Aragorn to give her that knife he had. Her anxiety over the weapon was far less than her anxiety over Boromir.

Stuffing all those thoughts away, she focused on her sketchbook. Drawing usually set her at ease and was her go-to activity when stressed. There were many occasions when in the field after dangerous situations she had taken to drawing. It was methodical yet meditative. It focused her mind like few things could.

She sat there well into the night drawing by lamplight. She was working on some sketches of home while they were still fresh in her mind. They consisted of portraits of her family, friends, and her cat. She drew the places she had been to, trying to capture them all before memory faded.

Her mind wandered as her pencil scratched the paper's surface. The soft reassuring hiss of graphite on paper settled her mind. She wondered if anyone from home had noticed her absence yet. Surely they had noticed by now…that is, if time ran the same way here as it did there. She was not a brilliant scientist, but she had learned enough to know that time did not necessarily run the same way in different parts of the universe.

_Or in alternate universes._ She was still unsure of where Middle Earth was in relation to her own Earth. As she pondered this new world her thoughts inevitably turned to her days here. She smiled as she recalled Merry and Pippin's enthusiasm for her iPhone. It had been a wonderful moment of connection. And it was a defining moment for her. It had allowed her to start to feel like herself.

The music then made her think of Legolas. The elf had been kind to her and they had even managed to have their first half-decent conversation. And even though she had startled him with her music he hadn't seemed damaged by the event. The tension had ebbed as they talked about his age.

She still found it difficult to believe that he was immortal. Still, she had no reason to doubt his words. Given everything she had encountered so far, she wouldn't be surprised if dragons and unicorns were real in this world as well.

Immortality was such a foreign concept to her. It was an enticing idea and there were many stories about eternal life. She herself had been raised Catholic and was familiar with the concept of the spirit living on after death. Even so, the idea of living forever sounded awfully lonely. She wondered if elves ever felt the same.

"It is very late and you had a long day. You should be resting."

She jumped at the sound of the voice. Her heart shot into her throat as the object of her thoughts entered the ring of lamplight. She quickly closed her book, wide-eyed.

"I did not mean to intrude," Legolas told her and he started to back away.

Lana would have let him go if it weren't for the expression on his face. She saw that her actions were hurting him. Feeling guilty she forced herself to speak up.

"No, no…it's…it's ok. You're not intruding. I just didn't expect anyone else to be awake."

He smiled genially. "Elves require less rest than mortals. I saw the light." He gestured to the lamp.

She nodded in understanding. He must have come to investigate its source. He stood there for a moment and Lana saw this as a chance to continue to get past her fears.

"Um, you can join me…uh, if you'd like." She offered quietly.

His brows rose in surprise and for a moment he thought he misheard her. But then he saw her gesturing to the ground beside her. He nodded in acceptance before she could change her mind. Lowering himself gracefully, he sat cross-legged on the grass. He was mindful to keep his distance.

As the light touched upon him, Lana noticed that he was wearing the silver tunic she had seen him in on the first night in Lothlórien. He had also brought a bowl of food left over from dinner. Her stomach approved of this offering.

"I thought you might be hungry," he explained as he set the bowl down in front of her.

She smiled at his thoughtfulness. Eyeing the selection she grabbed some grapes and popped them in her mouth.

"Thanks," she said after swallowing.

He nodded. A tense silence followed as she nibbled self-consciously while he watched her.

"I want to apologize for not being available to give you your lesson today." He said when the silence became too long for him. "I was invited by one of my father's friends to join them for the day. I thought it rude to decline."

Lana shrugged it off. "No worries. I used the time off to rest and I hung out with Merry and Pippin. It's all good."

He observed her quietly for a moment. Then he said, "You have being doing well with your archery as of late."

She lifted an incredulous brow. "If you say so,"

He smiled sincerely. "I do say so. Your improvement may be slow, but I see it. Soon you will be a fine archer."

"Thank you. I hope so."

She glanced down into her lap and his eyes followed her gaze. "The others say that you are an artist and a very good one at that."

She made a dismissive gesture but smiled all the same. "Gimli must have said that. He really liked the sketch I did of him." Her smile grew. "In fact, he's still raving about it."

"Indeed. Gimli spoke very highly of you."

Lana's brows furrowed then and she peered at Legolas directly for the first time that night. "Why don't you and Gimli get along?"

Legolas shifted as if he was uneasy then spoke. "Dwarves and elves do not have a very good history. There are many differences between our races."

Lana thought that a poor excuse. "And neither of you can forget the past and create a new future? I don't know very much about this world but from what I've gathered, this group has some sort of mission. And Aragorn is quite adamant about everyone getting along."

"Aye. There is a greater cause at stake, and for that Gimli and I tolerate each other."

Lana noticed the reserved gleam in his eyes and wondered at it. "So what is this quest? What are you all looking for?"

"It is not my place to tell you," he told her apologetically.

Lana grimaced none too pleased with that answer. "Yeah; everyone keeps telling me that. They say that they can't tell me or that I'll 'learn soon enough.'" She mimicked the superior tones of the others. "I'm tired of hearing that all the time," she said genuinely.

Legolas lowered his head a bit, his blond hair spilling down his shoulders. "Forgive me, but it is for your own protection."

Lana snorted sardonically, but shook her head not at all surprised. It appeared that he wouldn't budge on this either.

"Yeah, I've heard that one before too. I really don't understand all this secrecy."

Exhaling she scribbled absently in the divot in the leather surface of her sketchbook. A tense silence fell between them again. Lana grimaced slightly and glanced covertly at Legolas. He was still observing her with those unfathomable eyes. But there was a sweetness to him that she had been overlooking. He wasn't a bad person. In fact, he appeared to be one of the kindest members of this strange group she found herself in.

Worrying her lower lip, she decided that it was now or never. "I'm…um, I'm really sorry about how I've been acting lately. I swear I'm usually not like this…" she gave him a self-deprecating half smile. "All tense and rude and well, you know…"

Legolas acknowledged her words with a nod. Inhaling she plunged ahead. "In fact, I'd like to start over," she said and extended her hand towards him. "My name's Lana Rey."

Legolas looked at her hand in confusion, but he slowly reached for it. Right away Lana noticed how incredibly soft his skin was, especially for someone who was an archer. She shook his hand gently a few times and then released it.

Legolas smiled realizing that this was a gesture of greeting. She wished to start anew, and it lifted his spirits.

"I am pleased to meet you, Lana Rey,"he replied warmly. Then he put his hand to his chest and dipped his head before extending his arm towards her in the traditional formal elven greeting. "I am Legolas, son of Thranduil."

Feeling strangely unburdened, Lana grinned. "And you're from Mirkwood, right?"

Legolas' brows lifted in surprise. "How d you know this?" Suddenly he wondered if she knew his title as well.o

"Aragorn told me," she explained. "I asked him once if you were from Lothlórien, but he said Mirkwood." She leaned back against the tree, feeling a little more at ease. "What's your home like?"

A sad smile touched the elf's lips. "It was once a beautiful great forest with tall proud trees that reached for the sky. But an evil shadow has turned much of it dark and dangerous." He frowned, lost in memories. Rousing himself he continued. "It is northeast of where we are now; across the Anduin River."

"Is it very far from here?"

He nodded. "It is many day's ride."

She tilted her head, her honey blond hair catching the lamplight. "Do you live in the trees like the Lórien elves do?"

"Nay. My home is in a wooded hillside beside a river. Great open caverns extend deep into the mountains there. It is well hidden and carefully protected." He smiled fondly thinking of his home, but then a mischievous gleam entered his eyes. "But now I am finding myself preferring the open skies and foreign forests over familiar enclosed passageways."

Her lips curled, mirroring his look. "That is the best part of traveling—getting to see so many new places and meet new people. I'm guessing you have a family there?"

He gave a short nod. "Aye. My father lives there." He saw the question in her eyes and answered it before she could ask. "I have no siblings, and my mother's spirit is in the West—in Valinor."

The tone in his voice made her frown in confusion. "Valinor?"

Legolas glanced at her but then looked away, his gaze distant. "Valinor is the ultimate home of the elves. The Valar reside there. Once the crossing is made, one cannot return to these lands." He sighed heavily. "I was young when her life was taken from us."

Lana frowned, her heart clenching at his sorrow though she could not explain way. She was a sympathetic person—even empathetic at times—but she couldn't explain the strange wrenching pain she felt from him. It affected her so much that her own worries seemed insubstantial compared to his.

Even more strangely she felt compelled to reach out and comfort him. Alarmed by this feeling she pushed back against the tree pulling in the opposite direction of where her new emotions tugged.

Instead, she settled for a heartfelt, "I'm so sorry."

He gave her a sad half smile. "She is with the Valar. I hope now that she has peace that eluded her here." His gaze became detached yet again seeing images that Lana would never know.

"Who are the Valar?" She asked hoping to redirect his thoughts from such sorrows.

"They are the Great Ones, the Stewards of Arda; Lords and Ladies of the West. They helped shape this world and watch over it from afar."

She nodded as he spoke. These Valar sounded like the elven equivalent of gods.

"And this Valinor—it's like an elvish paradise? A heaven of sorts?"

He tilted his head observing her. "Aye. They say it is more wondrous and beautiful than any land east of the Sundering Seas. But I cannot speak from experience."

He could see that Lana was listening intently. Thoughts whirled in her eyes and he wondered what she was thinking. Her guard was still up, but not as high. He was pleased that they were speaking now, even though talking of his mother still pained his heart even after all these years.

But the compassion in Lana's eyes was, oddly enough, like a balm. He knew not why her condolence soothed him when many other's sympathetic words over the years did nothing. Regardless, it was not something he wished to dwell on.

"What is your world like?" He asked, pushing painful thoughts of his mother away.

Lana let out a sigh and her eyes took on the faraway look. "Where to begin? It's so different from here in almost every way." She looked into the trees, her mind's eye seeing what he could not. Then she glanced back at him, her expression mischievous and knowing.

"It's noisy, crowded, fast-paced…but it's also expansive and breathtaking…filled with the beautiful and horrible." She gave him a wry smile. "I suppose the most noticeable difference is all the technology we have."

"Such as the machinery you told Gimli about?" Legolas supplied. "The…car…and that loud device?"

She smiled chuckling slightly. It pleased her that he remembered, even though she had not been speaking to him at the time. "Yes. There are a lot of cars and loud devices."

"What do cars look like?" His blue eyes sparkled brightly with interest.

Lana opened her sketchbook, flipped to a blank page.

"Here, I'll show you." She sketched a quick image of a small four-door sedan. Legolas dared to move a bit closer.

"You sit here in the front to operate it." She tapped the driver's side. "It runs on gasoline and a battery that's charged with electricity."

"Lightening?" He recalled her trying to explain electricity to the hobbits a week ago. Back then she would hardly look him in the eye. But his ears had been attuned to her stories.

"Yeah, sorta like that. My people have figured out how to harness it and use it as an energy source."

"Intriguing,"

"Not gonna lie, it's pretty awesome. But don't ask me how to put it all together. I just know how to use it." She said with a genial grin.

Legolas smiled in return. "What other teck…teck—no—nolo—"

"What other technology do we have?"

"Aye." He nodded eagerly with a relieved smile.

"Well," she said reaching into her pocket she pulled out her iPhone. "This device does more than play music. Its main function is a communication device—a phone."

The screen illuminated as she touched it. Seeing his face, she said, "Don't worry. I won't make you listen to any music." She lifted a single brow at his sheepish expression.

Giving him the same explanation she gave the hobbits about phones and long distance communication, Lana pointed out all the features this wondrous little contraption could do.

"It stores my contacts' information, allows me to jot down notes; I can take pictures…"

At this point Legolas' interest grew even further. She showed him the camera feature and took a picture of the fountain in front of them. He was so astounded by this that he had her demonstrate this action multiple times. Questions bubbled forth to the point that she had no answers to some of them. She showed him a few of the pictures she had in her phone. One of which was her car.

He lingered over the pictures of her family and friends. The images were incredible. And the mere fact that this little glowing box captured images from real life was mind-blowing. Yet more intriguing was the opportunity to actually see what her world looked liked. It didn't look so different from Arda, physically speaking. There were trees and grass, flowers, and a blue sky with white clouds.

But the cities and the architectures were incredibly different. And there were many structures that he didn't understand.

"What is that?" He asked pointing at an enormous winged vehicle.

"It's an airplane. It allows people to fly."

He looked at her incredulously then studied the plane. There was a man standing in a uniform in front of the massive plane.

"That's my dad. He's a pilot—meaning, he flies planes. He travels all over the world. I guess you could say he's a glorified ferryman." She laughed lightly, amused by her own joke.

Legolas was stunned into silence. He knew not what to think. As if sensing this, Lana put the glowing device away.

"Don't worry," she said with a dismissive shrug. "All that stuff is pretty complicated anyhow. We'll just say that my world is very different from here."

Opening her sketchbook again, she flipped through the pages and then showed him the drawings she had shown to Gimli.

"This is what I was telling Gimli about. It's called ice-skating. It's a sport or just plain fun. You put these shoes on that have metal blades on the bottom." She drew a rough sketch of an ice skate on the corner of the page. "When you put the shoes on you can glide around on the ice."

Legolas looked at the image with curiosity and smiled. "An interesting source of enjoyment. Do you excel at this?"

Lana rolled her eyes and laughed. "Oh no! I'm pretty terrible at it. I usually end up skating on my bottom more than my feet. I'm better at surfing." She flipped through more pages and found the color image she did of this pastime. "I prefer this sport because it's a summer one. I hate winter!" She said emphatically with a smirk.

She explained surfing and how she and her brother would go any chance they got. Flipping through more pages she showed him some really old sketches.

"These are some of the buildings that I drew back when I was in college."

"Buildings? College?"

"Buildings are sort of like houses—in a way. They can be really tall—taller than trees even. People live or work in them. And college is where young adults go to learn. It prepares them for the adult world."

He nodded slowly. "And what are those? I saw them in the other pictures on your…aye-phone."

"Those are street lights. They're lamps with light bulbs in them. They're sort of like a candle that you can turn on and off with a flick of a switch."

He frowned softly. "I don't understand."

Realizing that this too was also over his head, she said, "I'm sorry. I can show you some things you would know about."

Turning a page, she showed him sketches of trees, deer, and birds.

"It's a forest." He smiled.

"Yeah. This was one near where I lived in London. I loved to go on the weekends and get away from the city. I would hike, take pictures, and draw."

"May I look?"

Lana hesitated a moment but decided this was no big deal. She nodded and relinquished the book to him. She watched as he lingered carefully over each sketch.

"These are oak trees," he said, grinning.

She nodded. "Yeah, that's right."

He turned the pages studying the drawings of animals, places, and people. Turning another page, he was delighted to see the sketches of his companions.

"These are the hobbits."

She nodded and noticed that even though he was nearly 3,000 years old, he had a childlike essence about him. She found it charming. Her lips curved as she watched his face.

"It looks just like them—and Aragorn." He pointed to the image of the Ranger. "That is remarkable. It looks exactly like Aragorn.

He flipped through following pages that were filled with images of his friends as well as places in Lothlórien lingering over each. When he turned to the pages with the sketches of him, he stopped and looked at them for a long time.

For a moment, Lana held her breath. She thought that maybe he hated them or was disturbed by them, but instead he smiled warmly at her.

"No one has ever sketched me before. I even remember what I was thinking when you drew these. You've drawn my quiver to perfection, and my bow as well. The detail in my clothing is amazing. These are very good," he told her, glancing up at to peer into her face. "Thank you for sharing them with me."

She blushed and looked down. "You're welcome."

Noticing her embarrassment he closed the sketchbook and handed it back to her. She took it and tucked it back on her lap.

"I'm afraid my inquisitiveness has kept you from sleeping. Aragorn will not be forgiving in his lessons tomorrow. You should rest."

She nodded in agreement. "That's probably a good idea." She covered a yawn.

"I can escort you back," he offered genially.

Smiling in consent, she rose with him. With her sketchbook under one arm, she walked with him back to the camp. The distance was very short and the walk ended before it had any real chance of beginning.

"Good night, Lady Lana." Legolas bid her with a kindhearted smile.

She gave him a shy smile of her own, daring to think that perhaps they might be able to become friends. "Good night, Legolas."

The two went their separate ways oblivious to the fact that Aragorn sat in the shadows smoking his pipe. A slow smile curled his lips.

* * *

_Thoughts? Comments?_

_Thank you for reading!_


	10. A Close Encounter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please read the author's note for disclaimer and explanation of this story.
> 
> I make no claims on Tolkien's works. I also give credit to Cormak3032.
> 
> A quick side note: I myself am only fluent in English, whereas Lana is a bit of a polyglot as you'll soon discover. That being said, I use Google Translator for the languages she knows. If you're a native speaker of Italian, Gaelic or Arabic and have corrections for how things should be said I would love to have them!
> 
> As always thanks for reading!

**Chapter 10: A Close Encounter**

 

Lana thought that Aragorn was acting a little strange the following morning. They went for their brisk run, practiced treading quietly through the forest and then had the sword lesson. Yet he was quieter than usual. It was like he was…preoccupied.

She didn't bother to question him about it. Aragorn, she had come to learn, was not one to offer up his thoughts readily. And while she thought of him as a brother, he was more unlike her own brother than alike. She didn't feel it was appropriate to pester him even though she was curious. She had to marvel at the man's ability to still fight her masterfully even though his mind was elsewhere. She did try extra hard to best him but was still unable to.

_So much for an advantage! The man is like a machine!_

When the lesson was over she went back to camp for an early lunch. The day was surprisingly warm and she pulled her hair up off her neck and tied a red bandana around it. Frodo and Sam were the only ones at camp. Sam informed her that Legolas was off with the elves and that Boromir, Merry, and Pippin were practicing swordplay. Gimli was with them to offer his assistance.

Drinking deeply of the clean cold water from a pitcher she sat down heavily. In truth, she felt too hot to eat, and she barely picked at the cheese and fruit that were leftover from breakfast.

A strange ringing was in her ears that weren't there before. Shaking her head she felt oddly dizzy. Perhaps she was coming down with something. Lana grimaced. That wouldn't be good. There was no time to get sick. And truth be told, she was afraid of falling ill in this world. If this place was stuck in some middle ages time period she shuddered to think what the medicines would be like!

"Are you well, Lady Lana?" Frodo asked her.

She looked at him blankly. The dark-haired hobbit rarely spoke to her. Usually nothing more than a hello passed between them.

"Huh?"

"I asked if you were well. You look a bit pale."

Lana pressed the back of her hand to her forehead. "Actually no. I'm not feeling good at all." She frowned "It's weird. It came out of nowhere. I felt fine this morning."

"Will you be alright?" Sam asked worriedly. "Perhaps you need to eat?"

Lana declined. For once food sounded unappealing. "No; I'll be fine. I'm going to lie down. If Legolas returns to get me for our lesson will you tell him that I don't feel well?"

The hobbits said they would and watched as she retreated to her tent.

Lana didn't know how long she slept. All she knew was that her head was pounding and that her sleep had been anything but restful. Strange dreams had plagued her. Images of her time in Afghanistan blurred with Moria along with images of places she had never seen before.

She dreamed of lands on fire and horrific genocides. Throughout it all, there had been a fiery volcano in a dark, dead land. It loomed like a threatening hell in the background of her dreams. There had been a strange voice—or had it been just a sound? It had sounded like a rhythmic chanting but she couldn't be sure—but it chased her through her dreams. No matter how hard she tried she couldn't shake it, and she became panicked. There was a sickening feel of suspended animation as if she was suddenly thrown from a car; then she was falling.

Her eyes flew open. Heart racing like a steam engine, she felt like she couldn't breathe. When she bolted up she saw that she was in Lothlórien. The camp was very quiet; eerily so. Both Sam and Frodo were napping in their tent not too far from her.

Lana ran a hand through her hair and pulled the bandana off. She rubbed her face with it trying to dispel the nightmares.

_What a trippy-ass dream…_

She reminded herself that she was a grown woman and that she was _far_ too old to be frightened by imaginings conjured by an overwrought mind. She was safe after all. But she knew all too well the effects of PTSD. It must be the mental strain that had caused it. There hadn't been much time to consider her predicament, and what mental energy she had left was spent on pining for her family and friends. At night, she would try to remember their faces and the sound of their voices as well as solve the puzzle of her arrival here.

Lana cradled her head in her hands. She felt the blood in her temples pounding. Now that she thought about it, there was a certain quality to _this_ dream that was different than any others she had. It shared a similar feeling of that hazy dream that she vaguely recalled before waking up in Moria. However, that first memory lacked the malevolence that this nightmare had.

Exhaling she rubbed the back of her neck. Her gaze then fell on Frodo. She had noticed that he rarely slept. Often he would stay awake late into the night, or he pretended to be sleeping. As always there was a strange, distressed air about him. While she did not believe fully in the New Age description of auras and spectrum fields, Lana was sensitive to moods and vibrations; although she took it all with a grain of salt.

But Frodo seemed to have a dark vibe around him. She was certain that it didn't come _from_ him. She doubted her companions would be interested in protecting him if he was in anyway evil. But that didn't explain the sinister feeling that seemed to follow the hobbit, like a shadow. It was a vibe Lana did not like, and she made it a point to keep well out of his way.

Gazing at him now, however, he seemed harmless. She mused that his body must have finally given up and forced him to rest. He was snoring softly. Sam was stretched out nearby.

Those two were rarely apart. She wondered at that for the relationship between them was more like master and servant than equals. But Sam was ever dutiful and attentive, not minding Frodo's taciturnity. As she thought more about it, she wondered at her companions' concern for Frodo's safety. Perhaps he was someone important. Royalty maybe? As always she had more questions than answers.

A cool breeze shifted the leaves overhead chasing dark shadows over the camp. It must have been later than she realized for it was rather dark. However, the light that did come through the foliage caught on something golden. The sparkling object grabbed Lana's notice.

Cocking her head she saw that it was a simple gold ring on a silver chain around Frodo's neck. It glinted in the pale light.

_Odd_.

Intrigued she stretched and rose. Without consciously thinking, she moved towards the sleeping hobbits. Soon she was kneeling beside Frodo though later she didn't remember how she got there. Moving as if in a trance, her hand drifted towards the ring. It was so plain, yet so perfectly formed. The simplicity of it was alluring and she fancied it would look lovely on her finger. Idly she wondered if the metal would be cool or warm to the touch.

Without warning she froze; her breathing hitched in her throat. A wave of nausea swept through her, but she gripped her head instead of her stomach. She sat there shaking uncontrollably. A strange feeling of being trapped within her own body held her motionless and mute. The unnatural chanting from her dreams blared in her head. Her entire body seemed to freak out, but she was stuck like a stone statue. She could hear her heart beating frantically. Panic swept through her body as a fear unlike anything she had _ever_ known started to drown her.

Suddenly with a cry, she broke free.

Frodo awakened instantly, his hand unconsciously moving to the ring that hung on his neck. Sam started awake, his brown eyes wide with fright.

Lana was on her kneels next to Frodo. A look of complete abject horror was on her face and she held her arms up as if to shield herself. They watched, alarmed and panicked as she sprang to her feet. The woman swayed dangerously as if she had consumed too much ale. Frodo looked at her confusion until he realized it wasn't _him_ that she was looking at… _The Ring!_

Lana was backpedaling as if Frodo was a wild and dangerous animal. Her dark blue eyes stared almost unseeingly and she gasped for breath. Wild panic glistened in her stare. Still backing away she slammed directly into Aragorn. With startled exclamation, she pushed him out of her way and bolted into the woods.

Shocked he looked back at Frodo and Sam for answers. Seeing Frodo clutching the Ring to his chest, he swore and tore off after the woman.

For the first time ever, Aragorn found that he could not catch up with Lana and it took him fifteen minutes to finally find her. She was leaning against a tree nearby a small streamlet. When he approached she jumped physically, still caught in the terror of her experience.

"Peace! All is well," he murmured. She settled only a little. Coming to her side he touched her arm. "Tell me what happened."

She was panting heavily and her eyes were wide with unshed tears. "Am I awake?" She wheezed. It was hard to breathe. "Please tell me I'm awake!" Her broken voice quavered.

The Ranger grimaced in concern. "You are awake."

She thrust her arm at him. "Pinch me to be sure," she asked not looking at him. "I need to be sure."

He didn't know why she asked this of him, but he gently pinched her arm.

She felt the warmth of his fingers on her arm and the feeling of him squeezing her skin. "Thank God! I'm awake," she exhaled heavily.

Aragorn frowned at her. "Tell me what has you so frightened," he commanded gently.

She shook her head. "It's so completely… _stupid_." She was certain Aragorn would think she was crazy.

"It cannot be stupid if it has you this frightened. Tell me." He urged soothingly.

She closed her eyes tightly, and then looked at him. "I heard a voice in my head…a _deep_ voice." She waited for the laughter or the look that would say she was nuts. However, he did neither and waited for her to continue.

"At first I couldn't understand it, then suddenly I could. It was so dark…cold…and, and _sinister!_ And it kept telling me that it would help me get home, that it knew the way. But I had to _kill_ Frodo," her voice ended on a horrified whisper. "It said to kill him and take the ring he has."

Suddenly she laughed hysterically. It was not a happy sound. Shaking her head, she gripped her temples with her fingers so that her nails dug into her skin.

"Theodore-fucking-Roosevelt. It was so...so… _fucked up!"_

Aragorn was deeply troubled by her words. His lips drew into a severe frown, but Lana didn't notice. She was far too distraught.

"I have no idea what happened! I don't think it was something I ate, and I've only been drinking water. What could've of caused this? Did someone slip me a drug or something?" She continued her tirade, her mind racing through the possibilities.

She held out her hands and grimaced. "Look…I'm afraid. I can't stop shaking. _Fuck!"_ She looked pleadingly at Aragorn. "I don't know where that voice came from, but I _never_ want to hear it again!"

The man moved forward and gripped her hands firmly instilling his strength and authority into her. "The Ring of Power is very dangerous. You must not listen to it or do anything it tells you!" Aragorn told her vehemently.

Lana stared at him, brows drew together. "Wha—Ring of Power?"

Aragorn nodded, he gestured for her to sit. With a heavy sigh, he knew it was time to give her some of the answers she sought. He recounted the story of the One Ring, of Sauron the Deceiver—the Ring's creator and master. He explained how it was lost and then found centuries later. Darkness entered the world forcing those who were righteous and wise to convene in Rivendell. He told her about the forming of the Fellowship of the Ring and Frodo's self-appointed role as Ring-bearer.

By the time he recounted their entering of Moria, Lana found herself wishing she had never met this group. A swift death was certainly preferable to the to horrors that awaited this company.

Looking up at the sky she bemoaned her awful luck. "Why couldn't I have ended up on some quiet farm or village? Why on a damned quest to destroy an evil possessed talking ring!"

"Gandalf believed that you have a purpose and that must be so since fate brought you to us."

Unable to control herself, tears welled in her eyes. She began shaking again. Tucking her hands under arms she hugged herself trying to hide it.

Now she _really_ missed Gandalf. The sense of security he gave her during was something she desperately wanted now. And he certainly knew more about her circumstances than he was willing to impart—of that she was certain! At least he could have told her why she had to be with the Fellowship.

Aragorn studied her frightened face. Noting that despite her grave features there was an underlying resolve that gleamed behind her dread.

"You are strong," he told her, trying to bolster her failing confidence. "Stronger than many. Perhaps stronger than you know, for you managed to resist the Ring the first time it called to you. You will survive."

A silent tear escaped from her eye as reality slammed into her like a knife in the gut. She glanced sideways at him. A shadow of memory Aragorn didn't know passed before her eyes. He sensed that there was more behind her tears than just fear of the Ring. What it was, though, was as unreadable to him as a book written in Haradric.

"I will have to kill," Lana murmured thickly. "I'll have to be ruthless and go against all that I was taught to do—go against all that I am," she spoke unseeingly. "I don't know if I can do this, Aragorn."

He gently gripped her shoulders forcing her to look at him.

"You can, and you will. You have people here who care for you and will protect you to the best of their ability. There is great strength in your spirit. I see it." He squeezed her shoulders, and repeated,"You _will_ survive."

She stared at him none too sure. "And what about the Ring?" She shivered. "What if it _talks_ to me again?"

"Then you will ignore it. It wants you to believe that you can achieve greatness through it. But only destruction and suffering will occur with its use. It is difficult to ignore; I have felt its pull as well."

She gave him an oddly hopeful look. "It's talked to you too? How do _you_ ignore it?"

Unconsciously his fingers drifted to the silver pendant hidden under his collar. "By remembering what I swore to do; to protect Frodo and help him destroy it. I remember my friends and how much they mean to me. I remember how much Middle Earth means to me. I do not wish to see all that I love destroyed."

The cool metal of the pendant soothed his mind. An image of the face he treasured above all others floated before his mind's eye.

Unaware of his thoughts Lana swallowed and nodded. Absorbing all this slowly, she replied. "I will try to remember that."

However, she still didn't feel like she was a part of this world. Even now, she felt like some strange observer; seeing but not really participating. Everything was like some bizarre safari. And despite the horrors she had seen thus far, it was easier for her mind to dismiss just how truly unbelievable it all was. After all, she was just trying to survive all this.

But the Ring seemed to think she was very much a part of Middle Earth. So much so that it had tried to bewitch her mind. It wanted to _corrupt_ her. Lana clenched her jaw tightly. She would not allow that to happen! The idea of anyone or anything controlling her instantly set off her stubbornness. The only person who could control her was _herself_.

Aragorn watched Lana closely and noticed a determined spark flare to life in her eyes. There was still fear, and her body continued to tremble intermittently, but he knew she would not give in. This gave him great comfort.

Part of him admired her. It could not be easy to go through what she was now. Several times before he had tried to imagine what it would be like if he left Middle Earth only to find himself in a world so strange and different from all knew. Her stories about machinery, sprawling cities, and culture upon outré culture were in some ways intimidating. How could anyone stand it? Life in her world seemed to be lived at an extraordinary pace.

One had to be brave to live that way. And clearly, she had that courage for she had made her life on reporting on the worst of humanity's pursuits: war. While she revealed little of the battles she had seen, he could see the lingering effects on her: caution, calculation, and defensiveness—these all blended near seamlessly into her person. But as one who had fought in many battles, Aragorn recognized a fellow survivor.

He spent the rest of the afternoon with her. Most of the time was spent in mutual silence as their thoughts wandered over the fate they had been dealt. Eventually, Lana leaned into his brotherly embrace as she drew strength from him. His offer of solace nearly broke her anew, but she stubbornly slammed the door on her weaker constitutions. But it was hard.

So many times Lana had felt utterly alone here. She was still confused and found herself afraid more often than she cared to admit. Nothing in her previous life prepared her for this. And she had thought the worst had been over after surviving Afghanistan. Clearly, she had been wrong!

Again she wracked her brain for clues to her arrival here but it remained elusive. No one seemed to have any answers either. Closing her eyes, she tried to bring up everything she could remember. It was a strange blur. There had been the sensation of being anesthetized. Her mind had darkened as she lost all sense of her being. But she did remember a feeling of being pulled, or perhaps it was like falling…

The one thing that remained clear was the voice she had heard. But it frustrated her that she couldn't remember what it said. The voice had been feminine, though. And she remembered feeling a numinous peace descend over her.

Lana continued to search her memory, rehashing her feelings. But as usual, no answers came forth. Until entering Lothlórien survival had been paramount. Even now with all her training, there was little time to process anything.

But one thing was certain: she was lonely. Like a boat torn from its moorings she drifted through her life now. The friendly interactions between the other members of the Fellowship were quite superficial. She couldn't say she shared any deep bonds with them. While she liked most of them well enough, she still didn't know them. And they didn't understand her.

She missed her brother.

Squeezing her eyes closed she tried to focus on the comfort of Aragorn's arms around her. It wasn't the same. But it did soothe the rougher edges of her worn soul. And now she _knew_. She was not alone.

For the first time, she felt truly connected. A bond that neither Aragorn nor Lana had been aware of had formed between them. And it now solidified into something strong and enduring. She knew then, without a doubt she could trust Aragorn implicitly. He would be there for her. And she realized that she would do anything she could to be there for him.

A new stage of their friendship was born that afternoon.

Sighing, she let go of her tumultuous feelings and basked in the newfound trust. Her mind shifted—as ever it raced from one thing to the next.

And now Lana pondered his words and what she knew about him. Aragorn was not a man to offer much by way of personal information. What she did know about him was his personality. He was solid, persistent, and kind. He was generous, giving his time to each member of the Fellowship.

He devoted himself to the service of others. And despite all that he had witnessed in his life, all the trials, and tribulations, he had a noble quality about him that was attractive. Not that she saw him in _that_ light.

_No. I am not attracted to anyone here like that!_ Her jaw set rigidly as she revoked the mere idea.

Still, Aragorn was like a surrogate brother; although he and Aidan couldn't be more _un_ alike. But the peace and confidence she felt when she was with Aragorn weren't so different from what she felt with her twin she decided.

With a sigh, she relaxed against him and allowed his calm presence to comfort her weary soul.

o0o

A pernicious worry grew within Legolas when Sam told him of what had happened. The Fellowship had kept Lana in the dark for so long, and the Ring had not liked that. It sought to return to human hands—man or woman—it didn't matter. Just as long as it could find a weak heart, debase it, and find its way back to the hand of its master.

Sam had also said that Aragorn had gone after Lana; which meant that the Ranger must still be with her now.

After some searching, he discovered them by a brook that ran through the woods some distance from the camp. On silent feet, he stepped up beside them. Noticing the movement, Aragorn turned towards him. Legolas saw that Lana was sleeping. She lay in Aragorn's arms, her face pressed against his chest.

Aragorn spoke with soft concern. "The Ring called to her."

Legolas gave a short nod. "Samwise told me."

"She was terribly frightened from her first brush with it." Aragorn glanced down at the sleeping woman.

There was a pause before Legolas spoke. "Perhaps it is for the best." At the man's confused expression he elaborated, "Fear will keep her from it. If she did not fear it, she might believe she could use it."

Understanding, Aragorn nodded. Someone they knew did not fear the Ring as much, and he had been all too eager to use it. If Lana remained afraid she might be less willing to take it.

"I was worried that this might happen. Something didn't feel quite right on the wind this morn." Aragorn sighed.

Legolas nodded in agreement. "I noticed it as well."

They remained silent for several moments. Legolas looked down again at Lana sleeping quietly, and then he glanced at his friend. "She finds peace with you," he noted aloud. A gentle smile touched his face.

Aragorn's answering smile held a faint teasing light. _"A' ah le." And with you_.

At Legolas' confused expression he continued. "You were both awake late into the evening last night. _Go-erui," Alone together._

Legolas smiled, oblivious to the man's teasing. "She wished to start anew. She told me about her world and I told her some of Mirkwood. And she showed me her drawings. _Maedeith." She is skilled._

Surprised but very pleased to hear this, Aragorn glanced down at Lana's sleeping face. At last, she was beginning to trust the elf. This was very good.

"She is quite pleasant when she is not afraid." Legolas continued, and then he lifted a brow. "How did you know we were awake yester eve?"

_"Cennin le ah he. Pennich 'daw vaer, Hiril Lana' he lam." I saw you with her. You said, 'good night, Lady Lana' in her tongue._

Both of the elf's brows lifted. _"Cennich ammen? Dan manen? Lostannech." You saw us? But how? You slept._

Aragorn smirked. _"Aye, lostannen ab. Gerin osp." Yes, I slept later. I was having a smoke._

Legolas frowned then. _"Ú-lastannen le." I did not hear you._

Amused Aragorn replied. "Nay, you were too busy bidding the lady 'good night'."

At Legolas' baffled face, Aragorn chuckled. "I am teasing you, _mellon nín._ Though what she said must have kept your full attention for you to neither see nor hear me."

"She spoke of her home. It was of interest to me."

While this was the honest truth, Legolas found it troubling that he had been so unaware of the man's presence. The fact that any future friendship he might have with Lana could distract him was not good. He could not afford such things once they left the safety of the Golden Wood. He was in all essence the eyes and ears of the Fellowship.

Aragorn nodded knowing how Legolas enjoyed learning about new and distant lands. The smile slowly faded from his face however as his eyes rested once more on Lana.

"I fear for her. She has no idea what she will have to face."

"Nay, but we will prepare her," Legolas told him with confidence.

"Aye. I hope that is enough."

o0o

"Marie!"

Lana bolted upright, her heart hammering against her ribs. She looked about wildly until she recognized her tent. She was back in the campsite, but she didn't remember getting there. She frowned.

It was dark out and she realized that she had slept most of the day away and straight through her archery lesson.

Exhaling heavily she collapsed back into her pillows. With determination, she willed the nightmare away. Reoccurring dreams had been persistently bothering her since her arrival in Middle Earth, but she usually was able to stuff them away in the recesses of her mind. And none had woken her like this.

This one…she shuddered, trying to not think of it. It was as if her brush with the Ring had made her dreams darker and more potent. She was no stranger to vivid dreams. When she had returned from Afghanistan she had terrible PTSD. Now it seemed that it was back. She wanted to punch something in sheer frustration.

In this last dream, her dearest friend Marie had been with her. They had been running through the back streets of Kabul and into a tunnel, but the tunnel changed into Moria, and instead of insurgents chasing them it was orcs.

Marie had been brutally slaughtered by the orcs and Lana had been powerless to stop it for a chasm had suddenly opened between them. Her eyes rapidly filled with tears at the thought of her friend. Did Marie or Anna, or any of her friends or family realize that she was gone? Were the police out searching for her body? Was it her face that now filled the news headlines? And who was taking care of her cat?

Feeling a tightening in her chest she drew her knees close and rested her head on them. She missed them so much! Even her silly cat, Pangur Bán. Irrationally her eyes watered as she thought of white Angora.

"Are you well, lassie?"

Lana started at the voice and quickly rubbed her tears on her sleeve. Looking up she saw Gimli standing at the front of her tent.

"I'm fine. I just had ah…a bad dream."

She hated this—feeling so helpless and vulnerable. The last thing she needed was for her psychological symptoms to return. It had taken a year before she could rest peacefully at night. The PTSD had affected her severely and she had been on medication for several years. She had no desire for the symptoms to start up again.

"You do not look well. You look very pale." A second more musical voice joined the first.

Lana frowned as Legolas materialized beside Gimli. Had she been that loud? Was the whole Fellowship awake now?

Mentally growling she replied firmly. "Really, I'm fine. You can both go back to bed. I didn't mean to wake you up."

"I was not sleeping," Legolas admitted.

"Nor I," rumbled Gimli. "The night is young yet and I cannot rest." He peered at her. "Who is Marie?"

Lana sighed slowly and looked away. "She was…one of my best friends back home."

"You were dreaming of her?" Legolas inquired.

Nodding Lana pushed herself to her feet. She didn't want to discuss her dream or home right now. "I need to clear my head. I'm going for a walk." She announced grabbing her fleecy hoodie.

"I shall escort you," Gimli told her.

"And I as well," Legolas said.

Gimli pivoted towards the elf with a grumble that sounded almost like a growl. "I am capable of taking her for a walk without you, _pointy ears!"_

Legolas' eyes narrowed. "Perhaps she does wish for your company, _short one."_

Gimli did indeed growl this time and was about to retort before an annoyed Lana snapped, "I don't need an escort."

"Of course you do. You would prefer a stout dwarven warrior to this pointy eared whelp, wouldn't you?"

"I'd prefer it if you two would _get along!"_ She bit back. "I am sick and tired of listening to you two bicker all the time. I hear it all day and I don't intend to listen to it all night!"

The two went silent at her words. They glanced at each other, dislike still evident in their eyes. It was who Legolas spoke up first. "If we agree not to quarrel, will you allow us to accompany you?"

"And why would you want to?" Lana shot back testily.

"Because it is obvious that you are not well, lass. You dream terrible things and act as if nothing is wrong. We could help ease your mind." Gimli said logically.

Lana lifted an incredulous brow seriously doubting the dwarf's words. Yet as much as she wanted to push them away, she knew that having them around would, in fact, help chase away her dream. And that would be the best thing to stave off the effects of her PTSD. They might not be her friends from home, but they were the closest things she had here.

Besides, they seemed genuinely concerned about her welfare. And even though she wasn't ready to admit it, she needed them on some level. Deflating her lungs with her decision, she nodded curtly to them.

The outlandish trio walked through the woods of Lothlórien and had anyone looked they would have lifted a brow. An elf, a dwarf, and a mortal woman engaged in conversation; it was not a common sight in Lothlórien. Indeed, those that did observe it spoke of it for many years to come.

The trio discussed Lana's training, spoke of the weather, of their families—well at least Lana and Gimli did. Sharing a laugh at a story about her twin, Lana was actually surprised at how much she was enjoying the stroll. By the end of it, she was feeling much better.

Gimli and Legolas kept their word and did not quarrel though it was obvious that they wanted to, many times. It was with a heavy heart that Gimli returned to the camp first. His dwarven stamina wore out.

Legolas and Lana remained alone together for a short while. He found a lone yew tree in a clearing and started to climb up. He hoped to get a better view of the moon and stars. Lana watched him with amusement then decided to join him. It had been years since she last climbed a tree and she felt a strange sense of freedom doing it again.

Following Legolas until she reached the top, she smiled at his grin and took his proffered hand. He pulled her up the rest of the way. She was unprepared for the sight that greeted her. The stars shone so brightly and the crescent moon hung like a grin in the sky. The combined light brushed the land in silver for many miles all around them.

_"Ithil_ and the _elanath_ shine brightly this eve," Legolas told her grinning softly up into the night sky.

He seemed to glow more brightly himself. Lana half wondered if it was her eyes tricking her or if he truly did shine.

"Is that Elvish?" She asked curiously.

"Aye, it is Sindarin."

"Sindarin?" She cocked her head.

"It is one of the many dialects of the Elvish tongue. I can speak three of them fluently."

Instantly curious she asked him which ones he knew. "Sindarin, Silvan, and Quenya," he replied.

"That's interesting. I didn't realize that the elves had different languages. But it makes sense. It's like how we have English, Italian, Arabic and so on in my world."

Sitting with her feet dangling off the branch she mimicked Legolas' intonation. _"Ithil,"_ She looked at him for confirmation.

He nodded, smiling kindly. "It means moon."

"And the other word? What does that mean?"

_"Elanath,_ it means stars. All are visible tonight." He said looking up.

" _Ithil_ and _elanath_ …moon and stars," she repeated.

Legolas beamed at her. The sound of Sindarin rolling off her tongue made him unreasonably happy. He didn't bother to wonder why, though.

They talked for a bit about languages. Legolas was curious to learn that Lana knew a handful of languages from her world. She explained that she grew up in a multi-lingual environment. Linguistics had always been fascinating to her, and she had studied several languages in addition to the ones that were spoken in her home.

"I am passable in several languages. I'm fluent in Italian and Gaelic—and of course English. My mother is of Scots-Irish heritage and my father is Italian. But my brother and I were born in the US; hence our American accents." Her lips curved puckishly.

Legolas was intrigued and had many questions he desired to give voice to, but he chose only one. He wanted to hear what Italian sounded like. Grinning Lana taught him how to say moon and stars in Italian.

His accent was pretty good, and she smiled broadly. _"Bravo!"_ She told him, clapping her hands.

Legolas grinned. "It is a lovely sounding language."

Lifting a brow mischievously she said, _"É la lingua del sesso e cibo."_

He gave her a questioning look. "It is the language of love and food." She translated though she made it less vulgar than the actual meaning. She didn't feel like she knew Legolas well enough to translate it verbatim.

He grinned, enchanted by the saying. They sat in companionable silence until Lana shifted to look at him.

"Will you teach me?" At his confused look, she clarified. "Your language—the Elven tongue. It's so beautiful."

To say he was surprised was an understatement. Was this the same woman who had been so frightened of him and his people just days ago?

"You wish to learn it? It is not an easy language to master." He had difficulty keeping the shock and delight out of his voice.

Lana shrugged. "That doesn't matter. Believe it or not," she said with a playful tone. "New cultures interest me. If I'm stuck here in this world, I should probably make the best of it. I wish to learn—I mean if you wouldn't mind teaching me."

Legolas could hardly believe his ears. She appeared earnest in her request. He did not realize yet that her fears were quickly being supplanted by burgeoning curiosity about all things elven. Nor did he know that it was also a way for her to not dwell about her home. All he knew was the budding of delight that swelled in his breast.

He smiled brightly. "I would be honored to teach you, _híril nín._ But tell me, do you truly wish to learn it because it is beautiful, or so that you may understand what Aragorn and I say about you?" He teased lightly.

Her lips curved into a curious smile. "Yes."

He laughed. "Ah, so you mean not to tell me which one?"

Her eyes gleamed with humor, but she didn't answer him. Instead, she started to descend. He followed behind her. She was waiting for him at the bottom. Gracefully he leapt to the ground, oblivious to her awed admiration of his agility. He gave her a questioning look, not understanding why she had left the tree.

"I'm finally tired. I'd like to rest." She supplied.

He nodded and walked her back to camp. They both shared a muted laugh at the sound of Gimli's snoring. Pausing before her tent, Lana looked up into his eyes.

"Thank you for the walk. Good night, Legolas."

He gave her a gracious nod. _"Mae idh_ , Lana." At her baffled look, he translated for her. "Rest well."

A smile arced her lips. As she settled down into her tent she watched Legolas blend back into the trees. He was so different from everyone else in the group. Now that she knew him a bit better she could really see the contrasts.

When she had first met him, he had been very reserved and aloof. He reminded her of a svelte jungle cat, moving silently and always watching, listening. Disregarding the fact that he had shot at her in Moria, she found his protective loyalty to the company's protection rather inspiring. Nothing could get past him.

_Not even a wayward time-traveling, space-defying woman!_ Her lips quirked at the thought.

Yet when they had entered the Golden Wood, his whole demeanor changed. It was as though he shed the warrior revealing a being with intense curiosity. She was quite surprised at how candid he could be, but he was in no way childish. Well, with the exception of arguing with Gimli, but she couldn't fault him for that.

_It's not all that different from how Boromir and I squabble._ She grimaced and glanced at the man's sleeping form. Shaking her head she laid back on her pallet.

Now that her distrust of Legolas was subsiding she found that she actually really enjoyed his company. He was actually rather fun. In some ways, he reminded her of Joshua.

Joshua had been the one guy friend she had with whom she never had to worry about. He was incapable of ulterior motives. Josh was himself at all times. They would laugh, tease, and flirt with each other endlessly. Many times people thought they were a couple and those that knew otherwise said that they _should_ be one. However, they both knew they were nothing more than friends. And they were happy with that.

Josh made her feel safe. It seemed that Legolas would fill that role here. Smiling she let her body relax as her thoughts drifted aimlessly between friends old and new.

And this time, no nightmares plagued her.

* * *

_Thank you for reading! What did you think? I always enjoy hearing from you._


	11. Friends Always Stab From the Front

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please read the author's note for disclaimer and explanation of this story.
> 
> I make no claims on Tolkien's works. I also give credit to Cormak3032.

**Chapter 11: Friends Always Stab From the Front**

Aragorn was surprised to find Lana gone when he awakened the following dawn. It was a dark and dismal morning, and rain threatened to fall at any moment.

"Has no one seen her? How could she have disappeared?" He glanced at Legolas. _"Ú-cennich he?" You saw her not?_

Legolas shook his head negatively. "I saw her not."

"Able to escape without being noticed by an elf. _Hmmph!_ I always knew her to be a witch." Boromir groused uncharitably, crossing his arms over his chest.

Aragorn scowled at the man.

Frodo shared a look with Sam. "Surely she could not have gone far?" The Ring-bearer said. While he was not very friendly with Lana, he did not wish her ill.

"Someone must have seen her. The other elves perhaps?" Merry suggested.

Aragorn was prowling near her tent looking for tracks when Legolas suggested an idea. "We could ask Haldir. He is the protector of these woods."

Then the Mirkwood elf straightened suddenly, his head turning to the left. Aragorn turned at the same time in the same direction. A moment later he heard the sound of footfalls, followed by light laughter.

To the group's entire surprise, they saw Haldir escorting Lana back to the camp. The two were smiling brightly. Their faces were rosy from their merriment.

Aragorn rushed up to them immediately. _"Mae govannen, Haldir. Harthon he ú-geritha drasto." Well met, Haldir. I hope she did not cause trouble._

As distressed as he was, he was equally relieved.

Haldir smiled warmly, sensing the Ranger's concern. _"Nay, he ú-geritha drasto." No, she did not cause trouble._

"I wasn't any trouble if that's what you're asking," Lana said putting her hands on her hips and shooting Aragorn a mock glare.

Haldir laughed lightly at the display. "I discovered her running alone near the borders of the wood. I did not want her to stray too far."

Aragorn whirled on Lana. "What were doing at the border of the wood?" He demanded.

Lana's brows drew together. "Running," she said nonchalantly. What was the big deal? Everyone was staring at her like she committed some sort of crime.

"Why were you running _alone?"_ He demanded irately.

"I woke up early and couldn't go back to sleep. So I thought I would get a head start on the day." She was unsure of what the hell the Ranger was so uptight about.

Legolas frowned, wondering if the mortal woman's early morning had occurred because her sleep had been disturbed by more nightmares.

_"Hannon le,"_ Aragorn bid Haldir. _Thank you._

"Truly, Aragorn, she was no problem. She merely took a wrong turn on her path. I am glad I was nearby at the time."

The fair elf smiled fondly remembering how he had found the mortal woman running along and humming in a winded fashion. It was her music that had attracted his notice first. Despite being breathless, her voice had been surprisingly fair. When he waylaid her he had initially thought she would bolt into the woods like a scared animal. She had been so startled!

Their first encounter a few weeks ago had been quite awkward. But he had been pleasantly delighted to find that she was an amiable woman. Their walk back to the camp had been enjoyable for him.

Lana smiled up at the tall March Warden. "Haldir was very kind to escort me back," she said. "The trees all start to look the same after awhile." She laughed making light of her error.

Haldir dipped his head in a courtly way. "Should you ever desire a tour of the wood, _híril nín_ , I would be more than happy to escort you."

"Thanks, I'll remember that."

"I have duties to attend to," Haldir announced. _"Navaer." Farewell._ Bowing once more he left the camp silently. Lana's eyes followed him warmly.

"You are lucky the elf found you." Gimli declared, disrupting her thoughts. "On the borders of the wood!"

Lana frowned, not understanding why everyone seemed so upset. "It was an accident." She reiterated. "I took a wrong turn; I didn't realize where I was. I'm sorry if I worried anyone."

"There are orcs and other foul creatures out in the lands beyond these woods. You would do well to remember that!" Aragorn snapped unforgivingly.

Lana blinked and withdrew from the man slightly. "I'm sorry,"

"If you are sorry—"

Aragorn's words began to sound distant, nearly fading away. Lana felt odd as if she was on some sort of high, but not a pleasant one. A ringing sounded in her ears and soon she heard that unnervingly deep voice. It was chanting incessantly in a foreign tongue that made her blood freeze.

Blinking slowly her gaze unwillingly slid from the Ranger to Frodo. He along with the rest of the company was avidly listening to her chastisement. But the Ring around the hobbit's neck held her attention. In the dimness of the overcast light, it seemed to glow unnaturally. With an effort, she lifted her eyes to Frodo's. Immediately he clutched the Ring and tucked it under his shirt. The voice, however, seemed to grow more relentless in her head.

"Lana?"

Aragorn grabbed her shoulder, startling her out of the trance. The dark voice faded away. Blinking, she felt as if reality suddenly rushed back into place with the force of a braking car. Everyone was staring at her.

Realizing what just happened, she exhaled sharply. Embarrassed and furious with herself she quickly went to her tent and grabbed her sword. Throwing a glance at Aragorn she said, "You know where to find me."

"Wha—where?" Gimli started, but the woman didn't acknowledge him or anyone else.

Aragorn felt a sinking feeling in his heart. He knew what happened. Glancing at Legolas they shared a look. Neither of them had been blind to what just occurred.

"She will not wander far. She needs some distance." Aragorn told the sputtering dwarf.

o0o

_Fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!_ Lana growled snarled out loud as she swung her sword sharply. She was furious with herself. Once again that bloody _r_ _ing_ had caught and held her attention! She wanted nothing to do with it, but its power seemed insurmountable.

All the things Aragorn told her on how to get past its alluring presence had done nothing for her. She couldn't hold a single coherent thought once the chanting voice started its incantation. It was bizarre and unsettling. And it made her livid. She sliced the air again.

Then sighing deeply she stood still. "What a fucking day this is turning out to be," she grumbled to the trees. First she had gotten lost during her run, and Aragorn was pissed off at her, and now the Ring had won her attention. Lifting her sword she slashed at an imaginary foe. The metal whispered against the air.

Still feeling embarrassed she cut the air again. And again. Despite her career as a journalist, she didn't like to be the center of attention. Her job was to bring others into the spotlight. The fact that everyone had witnessed her blunder was so humiliating that she dreaded going back to camp.

And Aragorn…how she hated it when they were at odds! She was not naturally confrontational. At least, not when it came to herself and her actions. She could challenge others on their predilections or actions but was uncomfortable when hers were thrown into question. It was a fault. She knew it well, but to have everyone witness her mistake...

Lana sighed heavily. It upset her that she had disappointed Aragorn. She looked up to him, respected him, and even found him attractive in that rugged vagabond way. Thinking over her companions, she pondered again on how handsome they were. But she outright refused to let her attraction grow beyond respectful admiration. Then she shook her head. _What are you thinking now, moron?!_

She was not at all interested in pursuing a love interest in this world! Why was she evening having this conversation with herself? Annoyed she thrust her blade forward.

For all Gandalf said of her living and dying in this world, she still believed otherwise. There was a way home. She just had to find it. _And get off this ludicrous quest!_

Looking up she saw a group of elves walking by some distance away. They were dressed in flowing robes and cloaks. They seemed to glide over the ground as if friction had no affect on them. They ignored her but she was certain they were well aware of her presence.

As she watched them move on she thought about how she had changed. No longer did the elves intimidate her—well, at least not to the point of petrifying her. She found them highly fascinating and wished she could actually explore their city more.

The elves were incredible beings. Beautiful, graceful, and blessed with superior senses—and immortality to boot! They were unlike anything she had ever encountered.

The group in the distance were all fair like Legolas and Haldir. It seemed to be an elf meant being towheaded. She had glimpsed only a few with light brown hair. They were all tall and lithe, with features that would have made the Renaissance masters swoon.

Her thoughts pivoted back to the March Warden. He had been very pleasant, friendly even. She would not have thought that given his dour first impression. When he had appeared in her path, he had frightened the living daylight out of her. He was a formidable individual—highly striking, like all his kind. He was broader than Legolas though, and his hair more silvery than golden.

When he spoke his deep voice sent shivers down her spine. It was liquid velvet. As he guided her back to camp, however, her tension slipped away and they had enjoyed a rather pleasant conversation. It seemed to Lana, that Haldir enjoyed teasing her. His dry humor was something she could appreciate for it was like her own.

Sighing she gripped her sword again. She whirled to try an attack combination that Aragorn taught her two days prior. It was much to her surprise when a sword clashed against hers.

Expecting Aragorn she was put off to see that it was Boromir who stood opposite her. With an exasperated huff, she pushed off of him.

"What do you want, _Captain_ America?" She quipped sardonically.

"I merely wish to test your skills. Is that so wrong?" He sneered.

She looked him up and down skeptically. "Test my skills," she echoed sardonically.

"Aye. You and Aragorn disappear for several hours each day. Surely he has taught you something by now. Show me what you have learned, oh-mighty-warrior." He taunted.

She scowled at him as he laughed. Seeing that she refused to engage, he goaded her further. "Or are you too afraid?"

Her eyes narrowed to slits of fury. "I'm not afraid. Least of all of _you_."

She put both hands to the hilt of her weapon. Ignoring the warning in her head that crossing swords with this man might be a bad idea, she focused all her energy on giving him a thorough thrashing. She was sick and tired of his contempt for her. She _would_ teach him a lesson!

Their swords clashed and she smiled slightly to see him rethink his strategy. She was more skilled than he initially thought. However, what began as a test of aptitude grew to be much more.

Boromir drove her viciously; no quarter was given. The man was far superior to her in strength and skill, and it was no small miracle that she managed to keep up with him for as long as she did. However, Lana felt herself tiring. Quickly.

There was a peculiar look in Boromir's eyes that made her quite alarmed. She had seen similar expressions before. And they never led to anything good.

"I want…to…stop…" she panted. Her arms were shaking. Boromir did not relent though. If anything he pushed harder. It was like he sensed her weakness. "Boromir! Please! Stop!" She pleaded. Fear bloomed in her stomach. She jumped away from him, but he followed doggedly.

"It's _mine!"_ He snarled.

She started at the tone of his words. She was about to ask him what the hell he was going on about when he brought his sword down hard against hers. Instantly she was disarmed, her sword wrenched painfully from her hands. Defenseless she tried to twist out of the way, but he came after her. She lifted her hands in surrender, but his sword continued its arc. A sharp pain struck Lana.

She screamed out in shock as well as agony. Glancing down at her right hand she saw blood pouring out of gash that spanned the entire width of her palm. The gaping wound made her feel suddenly woozy. Bright red blood covered her hand and dripped down her arm. The feel of the air on her open wound made it sting fiercely. But she merely stared in shock at the yawning lesion. Her heart thudded loudly in her ears.

Boromir let out a hurried breath. His eyes grew wide. What had he done? "I'm sorry, I did not mean—" He started towards her.

Lana instantly drew back, her eyes huge. "No! Get the fuck away from me you fucking bastard!" She cried out.

Fury and fear warred in her body as she back peddled. Yet as she kept retreating Boromir kept advancing. He tried in vain to pacify her, words blundering from his mouth. Her whole body shook with the residual effects of adrenaline, pain, and fear. The man was a lunatic!

Boromir continued to move towards Lana now intending only to help mend the situation when an arrow crossed directly in front of him. It buried itself into a nearby tree. He eyed the arrow in dumbfounded disbelief. The feathered end was still vibrating from the impact.

He recognized the arrow and was not surprised to see Legolas standing along the tree line. Another arrow was notched on his string. Gimli stood by him, his ax raised.

Boromir swallowed glancing at the arrow again. It had come dangerously close to hitting him. That, without a doubt, had been Legolas' intention. It was a warning. If the elf had wanted him dead, he would not be standing.

"It was an accident…I…we…" Boromir found that his words did not work but were tripping on his tongue.

Looking down at his sword he saw the red stain glinting in the sunlight. His hand trembled and he dropped the weapon on the ground. With horror, he realized what he had done.

"Are you alright, lass?" Gimli asked, trotting up to Lana's side.

Legolas remained at the tree line, his bow still cocked and ready. His pale blue eyes had not left Boromir's form. He tracked the man as if he were an enemy—dangerous and unpredictable.

"My hand is bleeding," Lana said numbly. Her body continued to quiver with the aftershocks of the attack.

"I did not mean to do it," Boromir moaned to no one in particular. He was shaking his head back and forth. Confusion and alarm settled into his features.

"You had best go back to camp, lad," Gimli told the man stiffly. "You've done enough here."

Nodding, Boromir swallowed. His mouth felt dry. His sword missed his scabbard several times before he was able to sheath it. His hands were shaking nearly as much as Lana's body. On trembling legs, he turned towards the camp

The woman's hand was gushing blood and it was his entire fault. The worst part was he didn't even know how it had happened. He could feel Legolas watching his every move with loaded bow.

_How did this happen?_ He looked around wildly. With a cry of anguish, he fled from the scene.

Gimli frowned as he watched the man go, but he let his thoughts lie. Turning back to Lana he held out his hands. "Let me have a look."

She hesitated, then Lana gingerly held out her injured hand. She winced as she attempted to open it. The motion caused the wound to gape open and pain lanced through her palm. She hissed and closed her fingers quickly. Blood was dripping down the side of her hand and between her fingers.

"I'm sorry, lass. I didn't mean to cause you further discomfort," he told her.

Legolas rushed over to them now that Boromir had gone. His bow was still in hand, but the arrow was back in his quiver. Kneeling down next to Gimli he assessed the situation quickly.

"It appeared as if he meant to strike you down," he said peering at her worriedly.

"I…I don't know what happened. I didn't do _anything_ … He—he wanted to see my skills and the next thing I knew he was attacking me outright. He knocked the sword out of my hands and…"

She swallowed and looked at her hand. The sight of her own blood was almost too much for her. A memory long buried surfaced and she had a bizarre feeling that was not quite déjà vu, but almost. In her head, she could hear cruel laughter and felt a harsh touch that she had tried many times to purge from her memory.

"It wasn't my fault," she went on murmuring. "I didn't do anything wrong…"

_I was just doing what I was supposed to do…I was trying to do my job…I'm a journalist…_

"Your hand needs to be treated," Legolas told her interrupting her spiraling thoughts.

She watched him as he reached for the hem of his tunic and without a second thought he ripped a strip from the beautiful fabric. With great care, he took her right hand into his. Focusing on his strong yet gentle fingers, Lana tried to calm her rapidly fraying nerves. She took great big gulping breaths, fighting demons of past and present.

Legolas glanced at her with concern but knew her wound had to be tended immediately. She winced as he gently pried her fingers open to wrap her palm. The elf could hear how she gritted her teeth to withstand the pain as he bound the injury tightly with the cloth.

He frowned at how badly she was trembling. Her face was alarmingly pallid. She was no doubt frightened, but the intensity of her fear worried him. Tying off the ends of the makeshift bandage he grimaced as she winced. "Forgive me," he murmured softly. "This will have to do until we reach camp,"

"Let us return," Gimli said rising. "So that we may sort out this mess."

Lana inhaled sharply and blinked. She glanced at her hand, which was rapidly turning the fabric red. "Ok," she murmured numbly.

She tried to stand, but she immediately fell over. Legolas and Gimli rushed to help her up. Hysterical laughter bubbled up from her throat. Her face was as pale as a swan feather and her eyes were glassy and unfocused. With care, they assisted her to her feet.

Babbling she to keep her mind distracted, she said, "Fun fact: the human body has roughly ten pints of blood in it. I wonder how much of _mine_ is on the grass _now_."

Her lips twisted into a perturbed smile as she stared at the stains on the grass under her feet. She didn't seem to notice Legolas or Gimli at her sides. Her wavering steps alarmed both the dwarf and elf.

"Are you well enough to walk?" Gimli grabbing her elbow quickly.

Lana didn't reply. Her entire body was visibly quaking now. As she wobbled unsteadily, she threw out her left arm as if the brace herself, though nothing was near. When it looked like she might faint, Legolas did not hesitate to slide one arm beneath her knees and the other around her shoulders. Effortlessly he picked her up. The fact that she did not protest bothered him. He shared a look with Gimli who was equally worried. The dwarf retrieved Lana's sword and in silence he followed the elf back to their camp.

Moments later Aragorn came charging through the woods meeting them halfway. He was instantly alarmed when he saw Lana in Legolas' arms.

"What happened?" He demanded, his dread making his voice sharp. "It was Boromir, was it not?"

Gimli nodded gravely. "I'm afraid this be his work."

Aragorn looked to Lana. Her eyes were squeezed shut as she buried her face against Legolas' chest. Her head was resting just beneath the elf's chin. Intermittent tremors ran through her body.

"How serious is it?"

"He cut her hand deeply, but she will live. Although she is terribly frightened." Legolas told the man.

Aragorn released a sigh of relief. The injury was not deadly. "Let us get her comfortable so we can attend to her wound."

It started to rain lightly on their return to the camp. As the white tents came into view the rain became heavier and a low fog moved in. Frodo and Sam watched with wide-eyed trepidation from their tent as the group returned with Lana.

Merry and Pippin were immediately up and asking questions despite the wet weather. They stood just beyond her tent as Legolas set her down inside. Gimli hedged the hobbits' questions as best he could.

Lana was still shaking slightly, but her eyes were open now and she was aware of her surroundings. Legolas noticed how she clenched her injured wrist tightly, almost protectively against her breast. It was bleeding through the ersatz bandage. Rivulets of red blood trickled down her wrist and onto her shirtfront.

He leaned over her and gently brushed the damp hair from her face. He spoke soothingly in Sindarin as he drew one of the blankets over her body. He was pleased to see her relax a little.

_"Idh,"_ he told her. She nodded in understanding. Giving her a comforting smile he rose and went to stand beside Aragorn who was waiting impatiently out in the rain.

"We need bandages," Legolas told him.

Aragorn nodded. Then drawing the elf further away from the others, he asked in Sindarin, _"What happened out there? Boromir returned in a dreadful state. He couldn't even talk."_

They both looked at the Gondorian man. He sat on a root on the edge of their camp getting drenched. Oblivious to the downpour he held his head in his hands. Anguish emanated from him.

"I understand not all that has come to pass," Legolas replied in Common, his voice soft. "I only know that something felt wrong. An evil was stirring in my mind. When I heard the clashing of swords I went to see what was taking place. Gimli accompanied me and we together we discovered Boromir and Lana sword fighting."

Legolas frowned as he recalled the fight. "He was vicious and struck her with his sword. He continued to move toward her with his blade still in hand. I feared that he would strike her again so I intervened."

Aragorn lowered his voice further. "It is good that you did or she might not be alive."

Legolas started and stared at the Ranger. _"Nauthoch ho geri dangen he?"_ He queried in hushed dread. _You believe he would have slain her?_

Aragorn sighed as he cast his eyes downward. _"Harthon ú-non forn. Dan…în paid geri raeg an lû. Grogan i gorf." I hope I am not right. But…his ways have been wrong for a time. I fear it is the Ring._

Legolas nodded grimly.

_"Ú-cerin Boromir erui ah pen,_ edregol _Frodo."_ The man said emphatically. _I do not want Boromir left alone with anyone,_ especially _Frodo._

_"Henion." I understand._

"I will see about the bandages, and perhaps a healer if the Lady can spare one. _Dartha ah he, mellon nín?_ " _Stay with her, my friend?_

Legolas nodded. Aragorn left swiftly then. Gimli was standing protectively outside Lana's tent, his heavy battle-ax was held with both hands.

"No one will get passed me to harm the lass," he said with conviction.

He had grown quite fond of the strange women, and it did not sit well with him that one of their own had attacked her. He was a dwarf of conviction and possessed a strong moral compass. It did not matter that a thin common ground that had developed between him and the elf. Gimli would not allow harm to befall Lana again. And no one would pass to her tent without his leave.

"None other than me, Master Dwarf," Legolas replied with a dark look. "Aragorn wishes me to stay with her."

Gimli grunted but begrudgingly allowed the elf to pass. Lana had remained lying where Legolas had left her. Her hair rippled like liquid gold as it spilled from her now loose braid. There was some color back in her skin, but she still looked too pale for his comfort.

Kneeling beside her, Legolas looked her over disquietly. He felt compelled to brush back the hair that hung in front of her face, but he was certain she would not approve of such an action.

"Are you well?" He asked in a low voice.

Lana licked her dry lips. "I…I think so. Yes. I'm fine…I'll be fine."

Legolas had to admire her tenacity. She strove to be brave despite her obvious scare. A concerned smile touched the corner of his lips. "You worried Gimli and myself."

"I'm sorry. I…I guess I went into shock." She dropped his gaze as her mind went to places he knew naught of.

Legolas could sense turmoil within her. She was battling with demons that had he known them, he would have burned with righteous anger. These dark thoughts shimmered through her body even now. His lips fell.

"Something more plagues you," he observed.

Lana glanced at him sharply.

"Something troubles you, and not all of it has to do with what passed between you and Boromir in the wood. There is a connection to it. I feel it…there is something more."

Lana inhaled unsteadily, her brows drawing together defensively. "What do you mean you 'feel it'?"

"Elves can sense emotions easily. You are hiding something though I know not what."

He stared intently not aware of how intense his gaze could be. Lana looked away nervously. She seemed to curl up on herself. He could feel her throwing up a wall between them.

"I don't want to talk about it," she said in a defiant tone even as her body language spoke of anxiety.

Legolas nodded cordially, respecting her wishes. They were not yet close enough for him to press her for answers. Though it saddened him to see her re-erecting the barriers between them. Their fledgling friendship seemed to be going backward.

Lana gripped the wrist of her injured hand. The tattooed _'invictus'_ was smeared with her blood. The improvised bandage from Legolas' tunic was thoroughly soaked through.

"Looks like we won't be having any archery lessons anytime soon," she attempted lightly. She didn't like the tension between them any more than he did.

"Nay. But you should be able to continue sword lessons with Aragorn since you can learn to wield a sword with one hand, but there will be no lessons between us."

Lana looked up, her eyes looking bluer than he had ever seen them. "What about the Elvish lessons?"

"You wish to start so soon?"

Lana shrugged nonchalantly. "Sure, why not?"

A bubble of joy welled up in his chest. Perhaps not all was lost between them. He marveled at the notion of a mortal wishing to learn the language of his people. Even more wondrous was how quickly she seemed to be leaving her fears of him behind. It was as if she was in a hurry to make up for time lost between them. While Legolas could not say they were close, he was delighted by the offering of her friendship.

"We will begin as soon as you feel you are well enough."

She nodded slowly. Legolas watched with interest as she glanced away from him, almost shyly. Her cheeks started turning pink and he sensed remorse. Her moods rose and fell like a tide.

"Thank you for saving me from Boromir," she murmured.

Instantly he realized that she was embarrassed. "It was no trouble. He will not harm you again. We all will make certain of that."

"Thank you."

_"Hannon le,"_ he told her. She met his eyes in confusion. "It means 'thank you' in Sindarin."

A lovely smile curved her lips." _Hannin le,"_

_"Han-non,"_ he corrected.

_"Hannon le,_ Legolas."

He nodded joyfully. For a moment, they regarded each other in silence. Lana now stared at him openly, her eyes roaming his features. The attack caused her to become hyper aware of things she hadn't really observed before. She saw Legolas every day and yet…she hardly stopped to notice just how _beautiful_ he was. Back home she knew plenty of stunning men, and quite a few who wore their hair long. Legolas' was like very fine silk and pale gold in color. However, he wore his in braids, and she wondered if that was significant.

Legolas was mutually studying her features. Her flaxen hair was darker than his own—more yellow, almost like honey in some parts. His own was pale and washout by comparison, or so he thought. He liked the rich tones of her hair.

He knew that when the sun hit it just right it shone with a multitude of shades from the palest gold to the darkest amber. In fact, the deepest layers were nearly brunette. But where the sun kissed it, her hair shone like living gold.

Turning his focus to her face he studied her eyes. They were blue, but not like his kin's. Hers were a deep blue, like the evening sky—or the heart of a sapphire. They were highly expressive eyes, and he was very intrigued by them. Had he known then what he would discover later, he would have said that her eyes were the color of the ocean. And they held just as much mystery.

As it was though, he could only make comparisons with what he knew. He wondered what went on behind her veiled looks. He did not know her well enough to read the emotions that skittered across her eyes. But he could sense vague sentiments. At the moment, she appeared more at peace but he knew that her inner turmoil had been buried rather than dealt with. He hoped that in time she would further confide in Aragorn.

She seemed to trust the Ranger more than anyone. It would be good for her to open up her heart and unburden herself. Only then would she find some peace he knew. Strangely, Legolas found himself wishing her all the peace he could offer. It was a foreign feeling and one he did not quite understand. Slightly disturbed, he ignored the sentiment since he didn't know what to do with it.

It was unfortunate that she arrived in Middle Earth in such dire times, he mused instead. He watched as her eyes trailed over his hair, then his face, and many times to his ears. Internally he smiled at that. It was hard for him to comprehend that there were no elves in her world. He was the first she had ever seen or met, and he was honored for the privilege.

"You handled the sword well against Boromir. He is more than a worthy opponent," he told her, breaking the silence.

His words caused her to smile self-deprecatingly. "Really? You think so?"

"Aye."

Her smile became more genuine. _"Hannon le_ for the compliment."

Legolas chuckled, bemused by her combination of Sindarin and Common Tongue. His humor faded as he heard the ensuing ruckus beyond the tent. The peaceful quiet moment between them was shattered by the concerned voices of two young hobbits.

"Well, how is she doing?"

"Can we see her?"

"Is she well enough to have visitors?"

Legolas rose to regard Merry and Pippin. Gimli was trying to shoo them away, but they wouldn't have any of it. The dwarf turned to him in exasperation.

"You may visit with her, but do not stay long," the elf told them. "She requires rest. Aragorn will return soon, hopefully with a healer to dress her wound."

The hobbits nodded and rushed into the tent, ignoring Gimli's protests completely, and practically shoving the dwarf out of their way. They sat beside the mortal woman, both of the effusing with worry and questions.

Legolas left them in silence, hardly noticed as he stepped away. Patting Gimli's shoulder, he stood beside the dwarf in the rain that continued to fall. They watched Boromir for a time. The man could hardly endure their stares and he retreated to his tent trying to block out the world.

Gimli glanced up at Legolas, leaning on his ax. "Darkness is tempting his soul."

The elf nodded solemnly.

"He believes he can use the Ring to save his people," the dwarf continued.

"He would only destroy them," Legolas replied with surety.

"Aye, we know that. We can fight the temptation of the Ring. Why can't he?"

Legolas remained silent pondering the question. "I know not. We can only aid in preventing it from consuming him. And Lana."

Gimli looked up with worry in his deep brown eyes. "I fear for the lad…and the lass," he added. "He gives into temptation far too easily. And she is not of this realm. She tries to fight it but will she win?"

"I cannot see the future, Gimli. I know not what will occur."

"And here I was thinking that all pointy ears had the gift of foresight!" Gimli goaded, but with good-humor.

Legolas smiled faintly. Their levity was short-lived, though.

"Only when we succeed in our quest will there be peace. For them and the rest of us." The dwarf said.

Legolas nodded mutely.

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_Thank you for your kind compliments! As always your comments, critics, and thoughts are greatly appreciated._


	12. Language Lessons and A Departure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please read the author's note for disclaimer and explanation of this story.
> 
> I make no claim to Tolkien's works. I also give credit to Cormak3032.
> 
> A note: I am no expert on Tolkien's elven languages. Even though I have a book and have studied it off and on for years. For the most part, the Sindarin I've been using is exactly the same as Cormak's. However, I have found to be incredibly useful when searching for certain words (weird spacing there because this site doesn't like URLs of any kind!). My Sindarin grammar is undoubtedly atrocious, so if anyone is good at it and has corrections for me, let me know!
> 
> And as always, thanks for reading!

 

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**Chapter 12: Language Lessons and A Departure**

Sleep proved to be elusive. It felt like days instead of hours before the morning came. The evening before an elven healer had tended Lana's hand and Aragorn had wrapped the injury expertly. Thankfully the wound was not deep so much as it was long. It didn't need stitches. But it had bled a lot, and she was cautioned against exerting herself too much over the next few days.

Whatever the healer had put on her hand had numbed the searing pain to a dull ache. If she kept her hand still it didn't even hurt. So it wasn't pain that had kept her awake during the night.

Her restless mind was bombarded by memories and feelings that she struggled to suppress. She stared for a long time at the white canvas of her tent trying to stop the deluge of her mind. She even listened to her iPhone for a while until she grew bored. All too soon the device needed to be charged.

The simple task of rummaging through her backpack was complicated by the fact that her hand screamed at her if she moved it too much. And she was right handed so now everything was immensely difficult. At last she pulled the portable charger out and plugged in the phone.

What she really wanted to do was go take a walk but that was out of the question. Firstly she might get lost again. Secondly it was still raining, and finally Legolas was _still_ awake.

She didn't want to alarm him or anyone else if she suddenly got up and left. And she didn't want company. Or rather she didn't want to talk. So she lay there in her canvas bastille doing her best to remain silent. To amuse herself she picked out shapes in the shadows that played on the tent walls, and mentally recited the poems she knew by heart.

For a time she watched her sleeping companions hoping her own body would be inspired. Gimli sored away like a freight train. It never ceased to astound her that he didn't wake himself with all that rumbling every night. Pippin and Merry were sprawled in their tent. Pippin mumbled incoherently in his sleep. Lana would smirk each time she heard the peckish hobbit say something about food.

Frodo appeared to be awake. From her angle, she could see him but he couldn't see her. She noticed that he was holding something in his hands. Grimacing she looked away. The sinister aura seemed to multiple around him now that she knew what it was he possessed. A sour feeling knotted in her stomach.

Sam was sleeping at Frodo's feet. The gentle-hearted hobbit slept soundly. It seemed that Frodo did not appreciate his friend's devotion to him, but who was she to judge? What did she know of hobbits or their culture after all?

Looking towards Aragorn, she saw him sleeping between two giant roots of a tree that cut through his tent. It didn't look particularly comfortable but the man could apparently find rest anywhere; a rare skill that she now envied. The Ranger had been restless as well, but unlike her he now slept soundly.

Risking a glance in Legolas' direction she saw that he was still in the same position he had been for hours. He sat leaned against a tree under his tent grazing out into the rain. She wondered what he found so fascinating. Initially, she thought he fell asleep sitting up but then realized that he was indeed awake. The subtle shifts of his head indicated he was paying attention.

Lana didn't look at Boromir. She knew he was awake but didn't want to be bothered with him. Not right now. She needed time.

As morning came lightly on the gray feet of a fog, the quiet chatter of birds made the camp stir slightly. The rain continued to fall, letting up occasionally, but never ceasing completely. The mist grew thick and it blocked Lana's view of the trees. Depressed, she sighed staring at the top of her tent again. Images of home flashed through her mind.

"Good morning."

Startled she looked up to see Legolas just outside her tent. The fair elf was standing in the drizzle not in the least bit bothered by the water soaking his hair and clothes. He was smiling and looked as chipper as if it was sunny and beautiful out.

Lana immediately sat up and gathered her profusion of blankets so she could offer him a place to sit.

"Good morning; here, come in out of the rain before you catch a cold." She smiled at him.

Legolas' lips quirked. "Your concern is well meant, but not necessary. Elves do not become ill as mortals do."

She lifted a brow, then smirked dryly. "Why am I not surprised," she retorted with amiable sarcasm.

He grinned and entering the tent, took a seat on the ground beside her. His eyes moved over her face, the smile fading a bit. "You did not sleep."

She exhaled and gave him a dry look. "Did anyone ever tell you that you know way too much?"

"Nay, my knowledge is not so great; only my awareness of what is happening around me at all times."

She gave him another cynical look. "Well, then you are _aware_ of too much, elf."

Legolas curved with knowing humor. "You have not denied my words."

She snorted at his silliness. "No, and I have no intention of denying them because you're right." She exhaled deeply, her amusement fading. "I didn't sleep at all."

Legolas looked at her bound injury. "Your hand does not pain you greatly, but your mind does."

Lana shifted uneasily and ran her good hand through her hair. Encountering tangles she grimaced and quickly twisted the riotous locks back into a ponytail. Not an easy feat with an injured hand. Annoyed when it spilled all over the place again, she tried once more.

"Allow me," Legolas offered.

She wanted to push his help away—and nearly did but she relented knowing she would look like a wild woman unless he did this for her. She hated it. She didn't want to look weak in front of him. And she didn't like how he seemed to sense what bothered her—even if it was vague.

"Thank you," she murmured when he had finished.

She did not know that Legolas had also felt very strange about this simple action as well. He had felt oddly tempted to brush out her hair and braid it back properly. The idea confused him and he was glad when she spoke again.

"Legolas, look, I didn't want to discuss it last night and that hasn't changed today. So let's just drop it."

Giving in he nodded. "Forgive me. I am merely concerned."

"I appreciate your concern, but as you said about becoming ill, 'your concern is well meant but not necessary.' I'm fine."

Legolas could sense otherwise. Inexplicably he was rather hurt that she would hide this from him. Why this bothered him so made no sense. Their friendship was still too new for him to insist on such a level of openness. He could only hope that she would at least confide in the Ranger. It would do her no good to keep her emotions suppressed.

"Are you going to start teaching me Elvish today?" She asked quickly changing the subject

"If you so desire it."

"I do. It's a perfect day for it. It's raining."

He consented. "Very well."

Her genuine smile seemed to brighten the very air around them. So while their companions slept on, Legolas began to teach Lana the rudiments of his language. First he taught her some common words. She had him write a vocabulary list in her sketchbook. The notebook she owned was ruined, but she didn't want to show him that. It would make him feel terrible.

As he wrote down the list she was not at all surprised to see that his handwriting was neat and perfect. He taught her how to pronounce the words and she carefully spelled them out phonetically next to the words he wrote down.

Writing was a challenge, but she insisted that she do it. It helped commit the words to her memory she said. Although it hurt her hand a lot. Her handwriting looked terrible as well. But she didn't let it stop her.

They practiced vocabulary and rudimentary grammar for a couple hours, oblivious to the camp awakening around them. Sam, Merry and Pippin listened for a while. They soon grew bored and started discussing home and food. Frodo was consumed with his own thoughts as usual.

Aragorn could hear them speaking in hushed voices and he was pleased to see Lana so interested in the Elven tongue. It was good that she was bridging her fears at last.

As for Boromir, he lay in his tent facing away from his companions. Sleep had never come to him. In his head, he replayed over and over what he had done. Tormented by the images of yesterday and by thoughts of Gondor…and the Ring… he was still confused and felt unprepared to face the world.

"How can anyone be expected to sleep with that racket?" A voice boomed over the camp irritably.

It echoed off the giant mallorn trees. Startled, Lana and Legolas looked up to see Gimli standing outside her tent in the light drizzle.

"Our apologies, Master Dwarf. We attempted to be as quiet as possible." Legolas told him curbing his annoyance.

Gimli grunted. "What is this nonsense? Laughing and talking—and I'm certain I heard Elvish words. Are you trying to convert her to be an elf?"

Legolas lips curved into a smug grin. Lana laughed outright at the suggestion. "I don't think I have what it takes to be an elf, Gimli."

"Humph! Learning _Elvish_ …nonsense if you ask me."

Legolas bit back a tart remark, knowing Lana would disapprove. He wanted to continue building their friendship, although it cost him to keep his lips sealed. As for Lana, she was still smiling at the dwarf, more bemused by his complaining than annoyed.

"Where is this rain coming from? I thought the weather was always fair in this land," Gimli continued.

Listening as he smoked his pipe, Aragorn released a puff of curling smoke before speaking. "The elves are preparing to leave the eastern shores. Their power over the land is diminishing."

Gimli frowned, but it was Lana who spoke up. "What do you mean they are leaving? Are they moving to a new country?" She asked.

He nodded. "They travel to a land that mortals cannot venture to. They will leave from the Grey Havens and sail west to the Undying Lands—to Valinor—never to return to Middle Earth."

Floored Lana blinked. "Whoa, what—" She turned to Legolas. "You're going to leave?"

"Not today or anytime soon, but someday I will leave with my kin when the Call of the Sea becomes too strong for me to resist. But do not fear; I have not yet heard its song. Nor I am yet ready to leave this world." He reassured her.

Sailing was of little matter to him. In his mind, it would be centuries before he was ready. And in that time all here will have passed away into dust. A sobering thought.

Lana recalled what little Legolas had told her about Valinor, but she assumed that it was a spiritual place—a heaven of sorts. Not an actual land. She had thought that "sailing" was a euphemism for death. The fact that this place was real and that Legolas would be leaving one day disturbed her far more than she cared to admit. And the feeling surprised her.

When no further conversation arose, they returned to Sindarin lessons. However, Lana's mind seemed to be elsewhere. When Legolas spoke to her, her replies were delayed.

_"Man presta le?_ Lana?"

"Huh? What?" She blinked focusing on him.

"What troubles you? _Man presta le?"_ He asked and immediately translated the question into Sindarin. She turned her eyes away. "Speak to me. _Pedo an nin."_

She looked at the sketchbook in her lap then at him. He could sense hurt emanating from her. Had he done something to offend her? Growing concerned, he probed, "Lana, what is it?"

She grimaced. "You're leaving us." She gave him a truly sad look that said more than her words.

Clearly the thought of him sailing distressed her. This small fact proved to him that their friendship was growing by leaps and bounds as if it was trying to make up for lost time. While this delighted him, her sudden melancholy caused him to worry.

"Did you not hear what I said? I am not leaving for a long time. You will have passed on before I venture west."

She gave him a wry face. "I sometimes forget that you're immortal and that you'll just keep on…living." She held his gaze and noticed that he now appeared despondent.

"Immortality is not always a gift," he murmured softly, his eyes seeing things hers could not as a memory was stirred in his mind. "There are some elves who believe it to be a curse and mortality the gift." He looked back into her eyes. "Men are allowed to die and leave this world. But we elves must endure until we grow tired, bitter, and weary with life. We will watch our mortal friends perish, and yet we must linger on until the ending of this world."

He looked so despairing that Lana swore she could feel it radiating off of him. She wished she could do something to comfort him. If he had been one of her close friends she would not have hesitated to gather him up into a hug. But as it was, she didn't know Legolas that well. And she certainly didn't feel comfortable enough to hug him. But it was her fault he was feeling this way. She had unwittingly stuck her thumb into an emotional wound, as it were.

Forcing a smile, she reached out opting to cover his hand with her own. "I'm glad you won't be leaving for a long time," she told him sincerely.

Feeling the warmth of her hand, Legolas glanced down to witness her fingers covering his. Like winter snow under a spring sun, her concern and this small act of comfort melted the sadness in his heart. Lana's simple gesture buoyed his spirits. It pleased him to know that she valued their burgeoning friendship.

"So am I," he said softly.

Turning his hand over he squeezed her hand gently. If the rest of his time on Middle Earth were spent in the company of mortals like Lana and Aragorn, he would consider himself blessed by the Valar.

Feeling a little odd, Lana cleared her throat and withdrew her hand to tuck some loose hair behind her rounded ear. "Shall we continue?"

"Aye," Legolas said, his tone returning to its usual happiness. "I shall speak to you in Common and then follow it with the Sindarin translation. In this way, you will learn the words and how they go together a bit quicker."

She nodded. "Sounds like a plan."

"Shall we learn a few verbs?"

"Sure."

Writing in her sketchbook, Legolas gave her a list of common verbs and their various endings. He taught her that when there was a verb and one was speaking in the first person, then the verb ended with the letter 'n'.

_"Hanno_ is the verb 'to thank' and the 'n' on the end means 'I thank.'"

Understanding she nodded. "Ok, 'n' for first person. So if I wanted to say 'I speak'?"

He wrote pedi on her verb list. _"Pedi_ means 'to speak,'"

"So, _pedin?"_

"Aye. Well done. _Mae carnen."_

They practiced a few more verbs, teaching her the second person endings.

_"Dregich._ You flee. _Bedich_. You go. _Gerich._ You have."

Legolas smiled brightly. "Aye. _Mae carnen_. You learn quickly."

_"Hannon le,"_ she said with accented airs. She couldn't hold the act though and broke into an amused smile. Legolas grinned warmly at her. "Can you write me a list of common phrases?"

"If it will please you, _hiril nín,"_ he said, playing along with her

"It will."

"Then it shall be done."

They continued to practice until Lana began to feel overwhelmed. She was ambitious, but it was only the first lesson. It wouldn't be good to have too much. As if sensing her thoughts Legolas said, "Perhaps we should cease for today. I should give you time to look over that which we have discussed."

Lana nodded her eyes still running over the words in her sketchbook. "Yeah, that's probably a good idea." She looked up at him. "I was doing well at the beginning, but I think I'm trying to bite off more than I can chew." Her wry smile lit her face in self-depreciating humor.

"Forgive me if I have given you too much. It is heavy work learning a new tongue."

Lana laughed at the idea that this was too much work. "It's no more than my professors would give me at university. Heck, it's nothing compared to what I had to do as a journalist." She grinned brightly. "This is more fun than crunching statistics for a news story."

He gave her a baffled look. "Statistics?"

"Uh, never mind. You're better off not bothering with that." She grinned mischievously. _"Hannon le,_ for all your help today."

_"Mae buiannen._ Well served," he smiled. He turned then, concentrating on the sounds of the camp. "The rain has stopped and the others are preparing for breakfast. We should help."

Nodding she put her sketchbook away. All throughout breakfast and into her lesson with Aragorn, Lana could hear Legolas' voice in her mind. Elvish words floated through her brain distracting her. She repeated them over and over again. The problem with that was she started to confuse herself.

_What did_ pedi _mean again? Was it to slay or to speak? What was moon?_ Magol nín. _Was that how you say my sword?_

"Lana!" She jumped and focused wide-eyes on Aragorn. "You are not paying attention! I could have just hurt you."

Blinking she saw that Aragorn's sword was dangerously close to her throat. "Oh! I'm sorry," she said sheepishly. "My mind was elsewhere."

Aragorn lowered his sword. "I can see that," he intoned dryly. "Most likely your mind wanders to a certain Mirkwood elf and his language."

She blushed. "How did you know?"

_"Maer inc."_ He tapped his temple with a finger.

"Huh?"

"A good guess," he translated. "I am pleased that you are learning Sindarin, as I know Legolas must be, but you cannot allow your studies to interfere with your training."

She nodded resolutely. "Of course. Sorry. I'll pay attention."

Sheathing his sword he asked, "How does your hand feel today?"

She opened her hand. There was a small red spot coming through the bandages. But the pain was more manageable than she would have expected. Fighting with one hand, and her left one at that, had proved to be a huge trial but she only dropped her sword a few times, even with her occupied thoughts.

It was a testament either to her growing proficiency or Aragorn's skill as a teacher. She leaned towards the latter explanation.

"It's ok. Still tender but it hurts less than I expected. What ever that elvish doctor put on it really helped."

Aragorn took her hand gently in his inspecting the stain. "It should be wrapped again. Come. We have done enough for today."

Cordially he held out his arm toward the direction of camp. Lana lifted a brow but grinned, bemused by the rather courtly gesture. Together they walked back. Chatting amiably—or rather Lana chattered and Aragorn mostly listened.

"I'm pleased the rain let up so that we could practice today," the Ranger told after she paused.

"Me too."

"Despite your wandering mind and one-handed handicap, you did well."

_"Hannon le,_ " she said brightly.

Aragorn's lips quirked and he glanced at her briefly.

"I felt more confident today. It's weird, but after what happened yesterday I feel…stronger."

The Ranger did not reply but his smile widened knowingly. As soon as the camp came into view, Aragorn noticed Boromir coming towards them. He felt Lana tense at his side and he lowered his hand to his sword hilt.

Boromir approached them penitently. He swallowed and looked down at Lana.

"Lana, I…I came to apologize. My actions yesterday were uncalled for. I never meant to harm you. I would have you know this."

Lana stared at Boromir suspiciously. She hadn't been expecting any apologies from the man. Given how much he seemed to despise her, she thought that there would be nothing but animosity between them.

Looking at him now, however, she felt a small twinge of sympathy. He looked terrible. His voice was sincerely contrite. Even so, she didn't trust him. And she certainly wasn't ready to forgive him. As if divining her thoughts he continued.

"I do not expect you to forgive me so soon, but I wanted you to know it was not my intention to harm you. Only to test your skills."

"You tested them and you will not do so again," Aragorn commanded with authority.

Boromir nodded contritely.

Lana finally spoke up. "Why didn't you stop when I asked you to?"

The Gondorian gave her a funny look. "You never asked me to stop."

She stared at him incredulously. "Yes, I did. Twice."

Hearing this Boromir openly frowned. "I do not recall you asking."

Disdainful, Lana was tempted to curl her lip at him. How could he not remember? Then something jogged her memory—something he had said during their fight: _It's_ mine _!_

His mind had been elsewhere, as if he had been in a trance-like state. It must have been how she looked when the Ring had spoken to her. _The Ring! He meant_ _the Ring!_ _The Ring caused him to act like that?_ Recalling herself, she focused on Boromir coolly.

"It's in the past. It can't be changed."

Boromir frowned. "You will not even consider—"

She cut him off sharply. "You are asking a lot of me after all the shit you've put me through. Not just yesterday, but before. You have given me nothing but grief since I arrived here. Do you honestly think I would grant you forgiveness in an instant?" She snapped unsettled. "I cannot forgive you now. I need time."

Boromir nodded solemnly, knowing he could not argue with her. "You shall have it."

She watched him walk away as if he was a dangerous predator. Feeling shaken both by the revelation of what the Ring did to him and by her anger, Lana did the only thing that came naturally. She became angry. And right now Boromir was on her shit list and she wanted _nothing_ to do with him.

And to be honest, at the moment she was more concerned with how the Ring could influence her. Or Frodo for that matter. The hobbit seemed relatively unaffected by it…or was he? He was more reserved than the other hobbits…

Feeling Aragorn's concern she gave him a weak smile. The rest of the day she spent on her own, feeling the need for solitude. It was nigh impossible to get it, but she retreated to the fountain with her sketchbook in hand. The afternoon flew by after she fell asleep from exhaustion. She only woke up after dinner.

Pulling on her fleecy hoodie, she then lit one of the portable lanterns on the outskirts of camp and opened her sketchbook once more. It had been days since she last drew anything. And it would be many days more since holding a pencil was still painful.

But it wasn't drawing that captivated her. The elven words written in Legolas' neat hand perked her interest. The Sindarin language kept her mind busy and distracted her from her troubles. She studied for several hours. With an eager mind, she soaked up the information.

Legolas observed her from afar. His keen hearing picked up her voice now and then as she faintly recited the Sindarin words, repeating them over and over again, committing them to memory.

The young mortal intrigued him. She had once been so terrified of him and his kind, and now here she was learning his language. It pleased him far more than he would have expected. It felt good that she was interested in his people—in _him_.

o0o

Lana eventually fell asleep after attempting to memorize her sketchbook. In the morning she returned to the routine of running with Aragorn and then sword practice. She was full of life as she sparred with the Ranger. She even laughed as she dropped her sword quipping that she never had been a leftie. Despite that, she managed to adapt and this thoroughly pleased the Ranger.

Hardly able to wait for her next Sindarin lesson Lana hurried to bathe and then return to camp. For the first time since arriving in this world she felt like she had some things to look forward to. Oddly enough, her lessons with Aragorn and Legolas were activities she took comfort in.

When they arrived back at camp there was an elf dressed in flowing gray garments conversing with Legolas in Sindarin. Both were well aware that Aragorn was on his way into the camp. With that eerie grace that all elves possessed, the newcomer turned and acknowledged Aragorn then Lana with a formal elven bow.

"Aragorn, _i cheryn vi eryn aníra pedi an le,"_ the elf said. _Aragorn, the Lady of the Wood wishes to speak with you._

Lana's ears perked at the word _pedi_. Aragorn left briskly with the elf without further discussion. Lana walked over to Legolas brimming with excitement.

"I understood something he said," she told him eagerly.

"Did you?" He looked at her with lifted brows.

"He said _pedi_. So, he was saying something about speaking."

"Aye, _mae carnen."_

"What did he want to speak to Aragorn about?"

"I know not: _ú-istan._ The Lady of the Wood wishes to speak with him. That is all I know."

"Ah," she rubbed her nose staring after the Ranger and elf.

"Are you ready for your lesson?"

Smiling again she nodded.

The two settled on a nearby root with Lana's sketchbook. They began another lesson. Less than an hour later Legolas began to quiz her on what she had learned from the previous day as well as this afternoon.

_"Man eneth lín?" What is your name?_

_"Lana i eneth nín." My name is Lana._

_"Maer._ Now let us do numbers. One," _Good_.

_"Min."_

"Two."

_"Tad."_

"Three."

_"Neled."_

"Four."

_"Canad."_

"Five."

_"Leben."_

"Six."

_"Eneg."_

"Seven."

_"Odo."_

"Eight."

"Umm…."

"Eight?" Legolas repeated.

"Ehmm… _toloth?"_

_"Maer._ Nine." _Good_

_"Neder."_

"Ten."

_"Pae."_

_"Mae carnen._ You are a fast learner. Sindarin is not an easy language to master."

Lana pulled a face. "I can say my name and count to ten, but I don't think I've mastered it," she joked.

Amused, Legolas smiled at her. "Perhaps not, but you are off to a good start."

"I have a _maer_ and patient teacher," she told him honestly. _Good_.

He grinned, chuckling as he did so. He enjoyed how she combined the Common Tongue with Sindarin. But the smile faded as he tilted his head to the right, listening.

"What is it?"

"Someone draws near." The elf got to his feet and stood perfectly still. "Aragorn returns. Something is wrong."

Lana stood up as well. The rest of the Fellowship was already looking towards the Ranger as he came sprinting back into the camp.

"What is wrong, Aragorn?" Legolas called to him.

"The enemy moves towards us. They know we are here and they're not far from this land—only a day's journey. We must leave at once."

"Leave?" Lana blanched.

"Aye, we must get a head start. We will travel by boat down the Anduin." He tossed a package at her, which she caught awkwardly with her left hand.

"Dress in that," he ordered. At her baffled expression he elaborated shortly. "It will disguise you. Everyone else pack your things. We leave in one hour."

Legolas nodded curtly and immediately went to stow his own meager belongings for travel. Then he moved to help the others.

Lana retreated to her tent and pulled the sides down for some privacy. Unwrapping the parchment she found a shirt woven from the finest fabric. It was a deep gray-green color, like sage. There was a sturdy jerkin of deep green that laced up the front. She also found a pair of dark gray-green leggings, and a leather belt with a leaf-shaped silver buckle.

Donning the new outfit she imagined she would look rather elvish. However, she saw that she looked more like Aragorn in his Ranger clothes than an elf. The clothing fit loosely, disguising her feminine figure without being cumbersome. Now she could blend in with the group.

The only distinguishing feature was her shoes. The black and white Converse looked very odd but not entirely horrible. Still she wrinkled her nose at the combination. There was nothing for it though. Fashion was not a priority.

She quickly braided her hair back into a thick rope then drew up the sides of her tent. Aragorn nodded his approval when he saw her. It didn't take Lana long to pack and soon she was at Aragorn's side.

"Do we really have to leave?" She asked dolefully. He had once said that the borders were well guarded here.

"Aye. We cannot linger," he told her, tightening his sword belt, and then grabbing his small quiver and bow.

Lana pursed her lips as she watched the flurry of activity around her. In less than thirty minutes the Fellowship was packed and ready to go. Haldir appeared to lead them to the Lord and Lady.

They greeted the ruling couple respectfully, and Lana was once again bowled over by their presence. It seemed that her trepidation around elves was not _entirely_ gone. The Lady Galadriel's starlit eyes rested on her for a heart pounding moment.

Haldir had them form a line. Before them the Lady's handmaidens stood with a grayish fabric in their hands. They stepped forward, the fabric unfurling and each of them was cloaked in a fine garment.

"Never before have we clothed strangers in the garb of our own people," Lord Celeborn said. "May these cloaks help shield you from unfriendly eyes."

A million uncertainties and questions vied for her attention as Lana touched the mallorn leaf brooch at her throat. Immediately she moved her hand back to her side as the golden Lady came forward with several maidens behind her. She announced that she had tokens for each of them, each according to their need.

"My gift for you, Legolas, is a bow of the Galadhrim; worthy of the skill of our woodland kin." She said taking the large bow and placing it in the woodland elf's hands.

A look of wonder filled his face as he ran his hands over the weapon. Eagerly he set his fingers to the string and pulled it back, testing it.

The lady smiled and moved on to Merry and Pippin. As she continued down the line Lana heard her heart thundering in her ears. She felt equal parts curious and dreadful. While she had met and dealt with celebrity and high-ranking members of society in the past, there was something different about this shining elf lady. Numinous feelings flooded her body when Galadriel came before her. Lana sucked in a breath and unconsciously held it.

"I believe my gift to you, Lana Rey, may cause some turmoil. But fear not. It will serve you well."

Now anxious about what she was going to receive, Lana looked up at the shining woman before her. It was Haldir who handed Galadriel the gift for Lana. Taking the object she turned back to the trembling woman.

Lana's eyes grew wide and she involuntarily took a step back. A soft gasp and murmuring was heard from the elves, but Galadriel's gaze was compassionate.

_It is an insult to refuse a gift from the elves_ , Aragorn's voice echoed in her memory.

"I—I meant no disrespect," she said in a small voice.

Bowing her head she held out her hands, one bare, the other bandaged. There was a slight tremor in them as a sheathed knife rested in her palms. Galadriel folded her fingers over the blade.

The touch of the elven woman's fingers on hers caused Lana to look up.

"This dagger once belonged to a kinswoman of mine. It served her well until the end. It will serve you now. You will overcome your fears, _penneth_. Do not hide from those who care for you," she said with a gaze full of wisdom and foresight. _Young one._

Then Galadriel moved on. Lana exhaled and pulled her hands in, still gripping the dagger. She studied the sheath and pommel curiously and with some unease. It was exquisitely crafted. The leather sheath was embossed with a floral pattern. The blade was curved. As for the hilt, it fit nicely in her hand. A clear gem was set on the end and it sparkled in the light.

Gingerly she pulled the knife from its casing. Her heart thundered loudly in her head. Swallowing she forced herself to look at the blade. Like the sheath, the blade itself was beautiful. The wicked edged gleamed brightly. A ghost of a feeling raced up her hands, and she felt her left forearm tingle keenly. Quickly she re-sheathed the knife.

"We have boats and supplies for your journey," Celeborn said to the remaining group. "Go now and prepare."

Aragorn, Lana noted, was some distance away in deep conversation with the Lady. With a heavy sigh she moved to aid her companions. She felt more like a hindrance than a help though. The elves were swift and sure-footed. They loaded the boats precipitously. She watched them for a few minutes before moving to Legolas' side.

She listened as he explained _lembas_ to Merry and Pippin. It seemed that those two had already consumed more than they ought and were paying for it now. Usually their antics would amuse her, but a dread had settled in her stomach like an iron ball.

Legolas caught her gaze and smiled at her. She wrinkled her nose at him.

"How can you be so happy?" She questioned dubiously.

"How can I not be happy?"

She gave him a look that clearly said he was mad. "We're leaving! This place is a safe haven and now we're leaving. We're going to face this ominous enemy and no one knows whether we'll live or die. I don't think that's anything to be cheery about."

Legolas regarded her intently. "Blood flows strong in our veins and adventure calls to us. There is much to be thankful for. We are bringing the Ring to its doom to save this land. I am honored to be a part of this quest. I would willingly die if it meant knowing that Middle Earth would be saved. Do you not feel the same?"

She held his gaze for a long moment after his speech. Then she looked at the rest of the Fellowship. Their faces were grim but accepting. This was their fate. Was it hers as well? Exhaling through her nose she looked down thinking.

"It's not that I'm not honored to be here—I _am_ honored, in a weird way. I've made good friends here. But," she looked back at Legolas. "I'm still confused about so many things. About the Ring, about the future, and the _why_ behind why I'm here."

Cocking her head she looked hard at Legolas. "Is it even right for me to fight? This is not my world. And I am not a soldier."

Legolas regarded her intently. "Middle Earth is your home now. But if you feel that you cannot fight, then perhaps you should remain here."

Much to her chagrin, moisture stung her eyes. The idea of being left behind was hurtful. Far more than she would have expected it to be.

"I don't want to stay here and lose you or the others. You are _all_ my friends—the only ones I have in this world. I care for each of you."

"But could you die for your friends?" He pressed, stepping closer to her, holding her gaze with his unfathomable one. "Could you fight for them and for others?"

She held his look for a long moment, transfixed by the intensity of it. Then she looked at the hobbits as they settled in the boats. She looked to Gimli who eyed the vessels with distaste and to Boromir who stood rigidly. Then her eyes rested on Aragorn. A light touched him and for a strange moment she thought she saw a crown on his head and fine robes on his shoulders.

Blinking caused the vision to disappear immediately. Her lips turned down. But a deep feeling of connectivity remained with her. These people were her friends now. They had risked their lives for her when she was just a stranger. Now that they knew each other, there was no doubt they would fight for her.

And she would do the same.

"Yes," she answered Legolas firmly. "I would fight for them." She looked back into his eyes.

Legolas gazed upon her proudly. Resting a hand on her shoulder he squeezed it companionably.

"It is natural to be afraid of the unknown, but do not forget that we are here to help you. And as time passes you will become more aware of this land and your part in it."

Her lips thinned. "For the first time in my life I don't think I want to be more aware."

Legolas frowned slightly at that.

"Perhaps Gandalf was right to keep me in the dark," she continued. "The little I know now makes me quite scared." She admitted openly. "Will I fight or fail? Or will I even live to see the Ring destroyed?" There was a thread of real doubt in her voice.

Legolas rested both hands on her shoulders. "You will not fail. You are strong." He looked deeply into her eyes, impressing his faith into her.

This was a pivotal moment for them, though neither realized it until much later. It was at this moment that their friendship solidified.

But at the present Lana felt uneasy. She crossed her arms as if to protect herself from the momentous decisions. "Aragorn has told me much the same, but I cannot help but doubt myself," she said dryly. "It is still against my nature to kill. I did it in Moria, and I kept thinking about for days afterwards. And I've not finished my lessons with the sword or bow."

"You have learned enough to aid you. Now you need only take those lessons and apply them," Legolas said. Then holding her gaze he continued, "It is never easy to kill."

"But you do it with such ease. I saw you in Moria—how you took those things down,"

"But I have been doing it for far longer than you can imagine. It is not something I enjoy, despite what it may seem." He let go of her shoulders and gripped his new bow. "I kill to survive, and I kill those who oppose what is light and good. It will become easier for you when you discover the importance of this quest as the rest of us know it."

Lana studied him. As she got to know him it was easy to dismiss that he was a warrior, honed with _centuries_ of experience. He remained unjaded, but he was a warrior through and through. He believed in this cause, as did each member of the Fellowship. They knew the stakes far better than she ever could. After all, she was still uncertain of what they were up against.

Glancing behind Legolas she didn't see Aragorn.

"Where is Aragorn? He's not with the Lady anymore,"

Legolas turned and quickly picked out the Ranger. "He is speaking with Lord Celeborn now."

Seeing him she nodded, then swept her gaze over the now loaded boats. Merry and Pippin would be riding with Boromir it seemed. Sam was looking highly unhappy in his boat. Frodo was making his way aboard carefully.

"Who am I going to travel with?"

"With Gimli and myself."

As Legolas said this she saw Gimli making his way towards them from the other end of the bustling shore. With a low sigh she looked at their boat. It was a pale grayish color, elegantly carved. Pursing her lips she thought it looked more like a canoe than boat.

Legolas peered into her face. "Are you fearful of traveling on the water?"

She snorted softly and shook her head. It wasn't traveling by water that preoccupied her thoughts. She was grateful that Legolas' attuned senses couldn't quite pick out her thoughts verbatim.

Her lips curled into a half smile. "I love being on the water, just not falling into a freezing cold river. Do you have a license to operate this thing?" She teased as he offered a hand to help her in.

"A license?"

"Yeah, I mean, you do know how to work this thing, right? We're not going to capsize are we?"

Legolas laughed. "Nay, _hiril nín._ We will not capsize. I promise to keep you safe."

Lana chuckled in return and settled herself carefully at the bow. Legolas gazed at her for a moment. Thoughts of their earlier conversation still revolved in his mind. Then he moved away only to return with his Mirkwood bow in hand.

"I desire for you to have this," he told her softly, extending the sleek weapon towards her.

Lana's eyes grew wide. "What?"

"I have little need of it now with the gift the Lady has given to me. You are well on your way of becoming a proficient archer and will need a bow of your own. I want someone I trust and call a friend to use it and keep it by their side."

He watched her lips part in amazement. Then to his surprise she shook her head, protesting.

"Legolas, I couldn't take it—it's so precious, I mean you _made_ it. And you've owned it for so long. I wouldn't feel right taking it from you."

Lana saw that he appeared greatly upset by her refusal. Once more Aragorn's words about elves and gifts floated through her mind. Never wanting to insult Legolas, especially after all his kindness, patience, and generosity, she relented.

"But if you are _certain_ , then of course I accept it." She smiled and held out her hands.

Delighted, the elf said, "I am pleased that you accept."

He placed the bow in her hands and watched as she pulled it into her lap. She held it delicately as if it was the most precious object in the world. Her eyes ran over it eagerly while her fingers traced the golden embellishments with reverence. Catching his amused eyes she smiled and blushed.

"You appear as I must have when I received my first bow," he told her with bemusement.

"This is an extraordinary gift, how can I not be excited?" She said brightly. Then her expression changed swiftly. "How the hell am I ever going to repay you?"

Legolas was quick to reassure her. "You misunderstand my intentions. I wish for no physical gift in return. You have already given me a gift," he said warmly. Although he never did quite understand humans and their tit-for-tat notions of gift giving, his lips quirked when she gave him a baffled look.

"What gift?"

"Your friendship," he said affectionately.

Lana's cheeks colored in a becoming way. But she ducked her head suddenly shy. He grinned widely finding her embarrassment endearing and refreshing.

"There is something else," he added reaching behind him to where some gear lay.

Grabbing a slender quiver filled with white-feathered arrows he held it out to her. He did not think her amazement could get any bigger, but it did and nearly bowled him over.

"This is a gift from the March Warden, Haldir. He regrets that he was unable to give you a bow as he promised but was pleased to learn that I had planned to give you mine. He hopes our combined gifts will help these arrows be true to their mark."

Lana's face was shining as she accepted the leather quiver embossed with elegant elven designs. With light fingers she traced the leaf and floral pattern on the quiver then hesitantly ran a fingertip over the feathers. She shook her head overwhelmed.

"This is…wow…" she glanced up scanning the shore.

"You will not find him here," Legolas told her regretfully. "He has gone to attend his duties on the border of the wood."

She nodded sadly, wishing she could have said good-bye. Mentally she thought it to him, and immediately felt silly for doing so. Still it was some sort of closure.

Legolas watched as she strapped on the quiver, buckling it snuggly to her body. He helped her unstring his old bow and fasten it to the quiver on her back. Taking a step back he looked her over with a fond smile.

"Now you look like a warrior."

She leaned over the boat just slightly so it wouldn't tip and gazed at her reflection. It was true. She did look like something out of a medieval fantasy. _My very own_ Game of Thrones _epic,_ she thought morbidly.

Dressed in the foreign clothes with the quiver and bow on her back, sword and dagger at her hip, she looked downright dangerous. The face that stared back at her was not one she recognized. It wasn't Lana Rey, citizen of the US and BBC journalist that was reflected there. This woman someone else entirely.

Legolas sensed her shifting moods—confusion, loss, and apprehension. Kneeling on the bank he reached out and touched her shoulder comfortingly. She looked up at him with deep eyes.

"I don't look or feel like the person that I once was, Legolas."

"You have changed. You are no longer the same person."

She looked back at the water, and he sensed that her moods flowing swiftly like the river.

"I don't feel like Lana Rey anymore. She was some woman who graduated from the University of Southern California, who studied the classics and journalism. She was a woman who was determined and filled with wanderlust. She loved her family, and traveled the world to give a voice to the voiceless. She loved her mother's cooking and her father's stories; and she both hated and loved her twin brother."

Her eyes became misty as a lifetime of memories swirled past her eyes.

"Times change and so must we," Legolas said sagely. "But not all change is bad," he said peering kindly at her as she met his eyes.

She nodded and released a pent up breath. Her lips curled into a weak smile. Legolas studied her thoughtfully then asked, "Tell me, what does your name mean?"

"My name?"

"Aye, does your name 'Lana' mean something?"

"It can be translated as 'precious stone' or 'jewel.'"

Legolas smiled beautifully then. "Cairnmel."

Lana blinked. "Caramel?"

Legolas chuckled. _"Cairn-_ mel," he repeated a bit slower this time. "It is the closest Sindarin translation to your name."

Lana smiled genuinely. "Cairnmel…I like the sound of that. It sounds like an exotic version of caramel—which I love." Her mouth watered at the thought of the delicious candy.

"Would you like me to call you that every so often? A _ëppese_ perhaps?"

Lana cocked her head. _"Ëpesse?"_

"I think you would say 'nickname' in the Common Tongue."

Her lips started to curve. "You mean like how you call Aragorn something that begins with an 'e'?"

"Aye. Estel. It means hope."

Lana nodded slowly, liking the idea. "I don't have a nickname for this world. My brother and friends would call me Lelani or sometimes LanaRey—even just L-Rey… Carinmel." Her smile broadened.

Legolas beamed back at her pleased that he had been able to lift her spirits. Hearing someone approaching he removed his hand from her shoulder and bounded up the shore graceful as a stag. Gimli stood there seemingly in his own world. With assistance from Legolas, the dwarf got settled in the boat.

Lana and Legolas shared a look over the dwarf's head but said nothing.

o0o

The group set out down the river just past teatime. Lana could not resist turning around to watch as Lórien grew smaller and smaller. Typically she never looked back. When she left a place she had a strange habit of never looking back. It made the parting more difficult she reasoned. But this time she could not help but pine for the golden trees. She sincerely hoped she could return.

Silence reigned in the little boat. As the trees thinned and the land changed Gimli was the first to break the quiet.

"I have taken my worst wound at this parting," he sighed. "Having looked my last upon that which is fairest."

Lana glanced back at the dwarf curiously.

"Oh, henceforth I will call nothing fair unless it be her gift to me."

Impressed by this declaration Lana exchanged a look with Legolas.

"What was her gift?" The elf inquired.

Gimli looked ahead as if he was in a trance, not seeing Lana in front of him.

"I asked for a single hair from her golden head," he sighed with a warm dreamy smile. "She gave me _three_."

Legolas smirked and Lana felt a warm amusement at her friend's infatuation. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say an elf has caught the dwarf's eye," she teased, returning the words he had once said to her.

Gimli, however, didn't reply. Still seemingly lost in his thoughts, he had a wistful smile on his face for a while. Lana shook her head, before looking onward.

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_Thanks for reading!_


	13. The Anduin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please read the author's note for disclaimer and explanation of this story.
> 
> I make no claims on Tolkien's works. I also give credit to Cormak3032.
> 
> A huge thank you to you all who have sent me such kind reviews! It's so exciting and validating to know that you are enjoying my take on Cormak's original fic. I can only hope that my version does hers justice-and satisfies that need in all of us to see this story finished. Rest assured, I will be finishing. I have many, many chapters already completed, and just a handful more to actually write.

 

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**Chapter 13: The Anduin**

When it was all said and done the journey south was relatively peaceful. The calming sounds of the water and birds combined with the warm sun made most of the Fellowship feel at ease. However, the seasoned warriors knew that it was only a calm before the storm.

As for Lana, she took it all in stride. She had no idea where they were going and could do nothing but trust implicitly in her companions. It was a strange feeling not having any control. She felt adrift with no anchor. It made her restless. On occasion, she would glance back at Legolas and Gimli. Everyone in her boat seemed withdrawn despite the fine late winter's day.

The elf had become quiet. Once again acting as eyes and ears for the group Legolas kept his focus on their surrounds even as he managed the vessel. Lana wondered what he was thinking. She was starting to see more behind the mask as she grew to know him better, but he was still very much a mystery to her.

His keen eyes surveyed the land as they floated down the river. Lana was curious as to what he could hear and see. The scenery was magnificent to her eyes so it had to be utterly amazing with his eagle-like vision. The forestlands gave way to rolling hills of hardy grasses. On the west side the growth was green and filled with life. But on the east, brown lands stretch as far as the eye could see. It seemed almost like a desert, but life clung stubbornly to the earth there too.

Gimli for his part remained silent in his own thoughts. Sometimes he would sigh deeply. No doubt his mind dwelt on the Lady Galadriel. He was also a bit of enigma to Lana. It wasn't his size or even his appearance that boggled her mind. It was the mere fact that he was a _dwarf_.

While she saw him, the hobbits, and Legolas daily, her brain still didn't know what to make of them. The fact that they were separate from her in ways that she couldn't even imagine was hard to comprehend. And yet, they were hardly different from her at all. In fact, she wasn't sure if there was really that much difference between them in the end.

Did they not breath the same air? Eat the same food? They laughed and cried as she did. They felt the same emotions. So how different were they really? Recalling the moments of laughter between herself and the hobbits, she smiled quietly.

Already she had been in this world a month.

_Has it really been that long?_ A worried moue pulled on her lips. What did her family think? Again she wondered if they knew she was missing. They had to—that is if time ran the same there as it did here. _I hope they found out soon!_ Irrationally she worried for her cat. She didn't like the idea that he might have gone hungry when she didn't come home.

Shoving the disconcerting thought away she reflected again on Lothlórien. She had changed a lot during those long days under the _mallorn_ trees. Despite the endless hours, time had slipped by so fast!

She missed the Golden Wood immensely; the way the light spilled through the yellow leaves of the massive trees, the faint singing voices on the wind, and the feeling that time had stopped. Now it felt like time was trying to speed up in compensation for standing still.

She missed the easy conversations between herself and the hobbits. Funnily enough, she longed to return to the times when she and Aragorn ran through the trees in the morning, sometimes making a race of it. He always won, but the exhilarating feel of energy—the wind coursing through her hair and their combined laughter echoing in the morning stillness was a memory that she wished to capture in her hand and hold close to her heart.

She also wanted to return to the archery lessons with Legolas. Though drawing the bow was still a challenge, she had steadily grown to cherish the time they spent together. And now that she and Legolas were on better terms, she was anxious to make use of his expertise. Watching the river water flow past them, Lana wondered if there would even be time for lessons of any kind.

Looking ahead at the other boats she observed the rest of her companions. Aragorn was in the lead, steering his vessel with gentle nudges of the leaf-shaped paddle. Frodo and Sam were staring ahead.

In the middle boat Boromir was the captain. His great arms made the task of paddling seem quaint. Observing him from behind she mulled over his apology. She was feeling less antagonistic towards him. But perhaps her ardor had merely cooled to frosty contempt.

_No,_ she thought. _I am beginning to forgive…_ But it wasn't easy. The process would take awhile. After all, he had wanted to get rid of her from the very start. The fact that the Ring exploited his feelings was no consolation. Staring at him she wondered for the first time if he had a family. A wife perhaps? Children? That would be interesting.

Shifting her gaze to Merry and Pippin she nearly laughed. Merry was dozing but Pippin looked bored out of his mind. His arms were crossed on the lip of the boat, his chin on his arms. Catching her eye he smiled at her. She was tempted to make a face at him, just to make him laugh. However, the stillness was not without some solemnity and it didn't feel right make light of it.

They broke eye contact, each becoming lost in their own thoughts once more. With a sigh she arched her back before sinking back down in her seat. Much like Pippin, she leaned on the side of the boat. Idly she trailed her fingers in the icy water.

Winter still gripped the land and Lana was grateful for the warmth her new clothes provided. The river water chilled her fingers and eventually she withdrew them.

It was many hours later when the sun had nearly set behind the horizon that Aragorn motioned them all to shore. It was decided that they would camp for the night in the small jetty that had formed naturally.

Lana volunteered to gather firewood. She felt stiff and moving around would be beneficial. Not to mention the mood of the day had affected her. She wanted some time alone, and it was going to be even harder to come by that now. In fact, she was not alone for long.

She jumped when Legolas appeared beside her. However she said nothing at his sudden appearance, even though he had startled her quite badly. But it served her right for being so involved with her thoughts. As Aragorn liked to remind her, the wilds were not safe.

She continued to gather kindling under Legolas' acute observation.

"You have been very quiet," he remarked softly.

He bent down to retrieve dry sticks alongside her. The task seemed too mundane for the warrior, but it didn't faze him. She could feel his penetrating gaze on her but she didn't dare look at him. She wasn't capable of holding his probing look.

As she remained pensive, a wave of concern washed over him. He almost spoke again when she beat him to it.

"So, have you." She straightened. "So have we all."

Legolas shifted his gaze to stare into the darkening woods. Only then did Lana chance a look at him. There was worry written on his face.

"There is an evil stirring. I can feel it, and it draws nearer every day."

When he turned back to her the intensity of his eyes made her swallow. She had always felt uncomfortable under his austere gaze. It was so powerful. She was about to ask what evil he was sensing when he continued.

"I feel it, just as I can feel the anguish emanating from you. It burns like the heat off a flame," he tilted his head. "I have felt it all day. _Man presta le?" What troubles you?_

Dropping his gaze she adjusted the kindling in her arms. "I…it's nothing,"

At last she returned his gaze with a sidelong glance. He knew in an instant what was wrong. "You yearn for Lothlórien."

Her eyes widened at his accurate assumption. Slowly she nodded.

"I guess I do. It was beautiful, mystical even…so unlike any place I have ever been to before," she told him. "I found some measure of peace there and built friendships...I never really stopped to cherish it until it was too late." She peered into his eyes.

Legolas found that for once he was unable to hold the woman's gaze. Who knew that mortals could possess such intensity! Yet how could she not? Did not elves and mortals feel in the same way? Did they not laugh and grieve together? Did they not experience pain and joy? Unbeknownst to him, Lana had asked herself these same questions that very day.

Thinking on her words he too felt the great loss of leaving the Golden Wood. The peace there was inexplicable but much desired. It had indeed been a haven. He felt her sadness and it mixed undeniably with his own.

"I understand your heart," he told her quietly. "For 'twas the first time I ever laid my eyes on the giant mallorn trees, or gazed upon the Lady of Light. I recognize and feel the same grief that you bear."

She cocked her head, her braided hair falling over her shoulder. "You've never been to Lothlórien before?" She asked in astonishment.

"Nay," he replied with a sad smile. "I ventured very little from my homeland until recently. And then it was to the desolate lands far in the north," he continued to explain. "When the council met in Rivendell, my father sent me there. That was the first time that I had ever gazed upon the beauty of Imladris. And so it was with the Golden Wood."

"But I thought that it was so close to your home—well, closer than Im—Imlad...eh, River-dell."

"Rivendell," he corrected with a faint smile. "Aye, it is a bit closer, but not by much."

"Rivendell is where Aragorn grew up, right?"

"Aye. He was raised there by Lord Elrond who treated him as his own son."

Feeling pleased to have actually recognized a place name, Lana smiled faintly. Maybe there was hope for her here yet. However she still clung to the belief that she would find a way home. It occupied her thoughts almost constantly and it had dominated most of them during the day.

Even so, the fact that Legolas rarely traveled struck her as very odd. She looked him over speculatively.

"Why didn't you ever travel? I mean, you're well over 2,000 years old. You can't tell me that you haven't had the time."

Legolas' sad smile made her heart clench inexplicably. "My reasons had little to do with time. I had duties to attend at home that did not allow me to venture far."

The bitterness in his voice surprised her. She decided that now wasn't the best time to pry, but that didn't stop her from wondering. One day maybe he would tell her more about his home. He was not looking at her, but rather his gaze seemed turned inward.

When he finally did meet her eyes she was paralyzed by his intensity.

"I am sorry for the losses you have had to endure on this journey, and for those you will no doubt endure in the future. Just as I am sorry for being unable to offer you the comfort of familiarity and family."

His words surprised her and she wondered where they had come from. Still she was touched and she smiled kindly, if a little sadly. Shifting the kindling in her arms she reached out with her uninjured hand and squeezed his forearm in thanks.

"Your friendship is an unexpected gift that I never expected in this world. _Hannon le."_

He smiled taking her hand in his; his heart warm from the gesture. "You are most welcome."

Feeling suddenly shy, Lana let go of his hand and quickly grabbed the kindling that was sliding from her grasp.

"I think we have more than enough kindling. Aragorn said we were only allowed to have a small fire tonight. We should get back. I'm sure the hobbits are waiting impatiently."

Legolas chuckled faintly picturing the hobbits pacing and complaining that their bellies required nourishment and that Lana was taking too long. Extending his arm toward her he said, _"Hiril nín_ Cairnmel, may I escort you back to our camp?"

Lana beamed at hearing her nickname. She fell easily into Legolas' playful mood. "Why that would be just delightful, Master Elf."

He grimaced. "Please do not call me _that_. You sound too much like Gimli," he bemoaned and she stifled a laughed.

"How would you wish me to address you then, my lord?" She asked in theatrical accented tones.

"My given name would do nicely."

She _tisked_ her tongue and shook her head. "Nay, that won't do at all." Tapping a finger to her lips she thought for a moment.

Legolas grinned in amusement and waited patiently until she spoke.

_"Auth maethor a maer mellon nín,_ I would be delighted if you would escort me." She gave him a gracious smile that was quickly breaking under the strain of her amusement. _Skilled warrior and my good friend._

Legolas said nothing for a few moments, but a warm smile spread on his lips. "You have honored me with such high praise, _Hiril_ Cairnmel, by speaking the language of my people. Already you show dedication."

Lana's smile changed into a gleeful one. "So you understood what I said? I've been studying. Did I make any mistakes?"

Legolas chuckled at her enthusiasm and he took up her uninjured hand in his once more, and leaned towards her. "Nay, your Sindarin is close to perfect."

"But not perfect," she pouted. She looked utterly adorable with her lower lip puckered slightly.

"Your accent is slightly off, but I might be able to pass you off as an elf yet!" He teased with a grin.

She laughed at that idea. "What with these ears and this body? I don't think so. Besides, I don't think Gimli would approve of such an idea."

Legolas gave her a warm look. "Do not mock yourself so, and I care not for Gimli's opinion on the matter. Shall we?"

He extended his free hand towards the camp again. She nodded feeling giddy and childish as he tucked her hand into the crook of his arm.

Legolas felt his delight bubble up. He covered her hand with his own and they proceeded down the slope towards the camp.

They had not taken more than ten steps when Legolas halted unexpectedly. The smile on his face faded and in an instant shattered their playful interval.

"What is it?" Lana looked at him warily. She felt his hand unconsciously tighten on hers.

"We should return to camp, it is not safe to stray." He looked down at her, and taking her hand in his, he commanded, _"Aphado nin." Follow me._

The hobbits were very pleased to see them reenter the camp. Legolas appeared first at a light jog barely making a sound while Lana followed behind much more loudly by comparison.

Aragorn immediately went to Legolas as Lana dropped the firewood to the ground. She helped to get the blaze going, while keeping an eye on the Ranger and elf. She produced her lighter to make the process go faster.

Her eyes flickered to where Legolas and Aragorn spoke in muffled undertones. After conversing only a few moments, Aragorn turned to the others. "There will be only a very small fire this evening. Saruman's spies draw near and it would be foolish to lead them to us before we have reached our destination."

"Small? But that means we can't cook anything big. It would take too long. And we're _so_ hungry," Pippin complained. He was not at all used to eating only three times a day. And sometimes they only ate twice!

"There is bacon, tomatoes, and _lembas_ bread. That will not take long to prepare," Aragorn told him brusquely, then turned back to the boats.

Pippin sighed. He longed for a hardy meal of meat and vegetables before they spoiled and were unable to be consumed. Sam however said that they could make sandwiches and that it would be hardy enough. In the meantime, he passed around pieces of the lembas to tide them over.

Legolas and Aragorn refused and Gimli feigned disinterest. He was sounding much more like himself now.

Lana sat propped up against a fallen tree and munched on her share. The bread was interesting, both slightly sweet and savory. It wasn't bad, but she wasn't really a bread person. After several bites she offered the rest to Pippin. Then she returned her attention to the Ranger and elf and wondered what they were talking about. The looks on their faces made the bread in her stomach gurgle. She was familiar with such expressions and knew something was up.

She was distracted by their main meal and conversation with Pippin and Merry as they pried more information about her world from her. They liked her many stories and the ridiculous antics between herself and her brother, Aidan. Normally she was happy to oblige, but this evening the tension in the air affected her.

Their meager dinner consumed, both Aragorn and Legolas took up watch, staring out over the river. It looked like they were scanning the water for something. And they remained that way even as the Fellowship prepared for sleep.

Merry and Pippin fell asleep with no trouble. Despite his muttered complaints Gimli had eaten all his _lembas_ and now he slept soundly as well. Frodo was sitting off on his own facing the water. Sam meanwhile was making an inventory of their supplies.

Back up stream a little ways near a rocky outcrop was Boromir. He seemed highly interested in something out in the river. What it was, Lana couldn't say. She craned her neck but still didn't see anything. Unconsciously she twisted her loosened hair around her fingers.

Aragorn stepped up beside the Gondorian as he set down his gear. "Gollum. He has tracked us since Moria. I had hoped to lose him on the river, but he is too clever a waterman."

"And if he alerts the enemy to our whereabouts it will make the crossing even more dangerous," Boromir warned.

Lana frowned, but she was quickly distracted by another conversation much closer at hand.

"Have some food, Mr. Frodo," Sam said, offering the other hobbit a bit of the way bread.

"No, Sam."

"You haven't eaten anything all day. You're no sleeping, neither—don't think I haven't noticed," Sam admonished gently. Kneeling by his friend's side, he said, "Mr. Frodo—"

"I'm alright," Frodo interjected tersely.

"But you're not," Sam spoke with worry. He looked at the dark-haired Ring-bearer hopelessly. "I'm here to help you. I promised Gandalf that I would."

The sad tone of Samwise's voice caught Lana's attention and she turned her head to observe them. Frodo looked at Sam with a haunted desolate expression that seemed to grow more prevalent by the day.

"You can't help me, Sam. Not this time. Get some sleep."

The words were heartbreaking, and Sam looked at a loss as to what to do now. He peered anxiously at Frodo but at last sighed in defeat and went to settle himself on his bedroll.

Frodo remained where he was, his thoughts turned inward. He was startled when Lana came and sat across from him. He looked at her questioningly. Instantly his hand went to the Ring that remained hidden under his shirt. He saw her dark eyes flicker to his hand then back to his face.

"I know we haven't talked very much so I can understand your hesitation. But I mean you no harm," she said unthreateningly.

Frodo studied her warily. She so peculiar and had he not the influence of the Ring distracting him, he might have found her fascinating. He used to be curious about other lands and their inhabitants. But now he was only suspicious.

"I know this, but I cannot help but fear after…" He trailed off not wanting to offend her outright.

She grimaced. "Yeah after what happened in Lórien." She wrinkled her nose in that way she usually did when confronted with something she didn't like. "Look, I don't blame you for your apprehension,"

"Then why do you seek me out when you know there is a risk?"

"Because I have something that might help,"

Alarmed his hand went back to his chest, clutching the Ring again.

"I don't want your stupid ring," she growled, annoyed by his blatant lack of trust. Then she sighed and ran her good hand through her loose hair. "Listen, I don't want to be anywhere near it, but that's not an option for me since the whole reason we're all together is to protect it and you.

"And I don't want to seem rude or aloof for not talking to you, but honestly that thing scares the shi—ah, hell, out of me. So I much rather stay as far away as possible."

Frodo observed her solemnly. "Yet you still risk hearing its call by sitting near me."

She gave him an impatient look. "Look, all I wanted to say is that you have friends all around you, and they are here to help. Sam in particular is always there for you. I don't know your guys' history, but I can see that he is devoted to you. He would help you more if you let him."

"He cannot help me. No one can. This is _my_ burden. Mine alone."

Lana's brows drew together. "I don't know how you can say that since there is this entire company here working towards the same goal, but whatever. All I can say is that Sam is trying to be a true friend and help you in anyway he can. He is trying to help _you_ —not take your task from you."

Frodo frowned. "Why are you telling me this? What business is it of yours?"

She shrugged. "Honestly, none. But I have seen similar situations like this before back at home. I'd hate to see what happened back there happen to you and Sam." She paused letting her words sink in. "I don't know you or Sam—I don't _know_ anyone here really; but I can't help but want to see things right for everyone here. All of you have been so kind to me."

Now intrigued Frodo asked, "What happened in your home that has you worried now?"

"Two acquaintances of mine were friends since childhood. One of them became involved in a freak accident—a death of another mutual friend. The other one tried to help the grieving friend. They tried to be there and do everything they could to help this person move on, but the troubled friend wouldn't accept anything from anyone. He drew further into himself, and he continuously pushed his friend away, until one day that friend decided it wasn't worth the pain and heartbreak of trying to be there anymore.

"Their friendship ended, most tragically, and it was many lonely months later that the troubled friend realized how much he needed the other person. But it was too late. Their friendship never returned."

Frodo grimaced. "That is truly tragic."

Lana gave him a long look. "Yes. It is."

She stood and left him. He watched as she settled on her bedroll a good distance away. Her story mulled through his mind. It certainly gave him something to think about. Then with a heavy sigh he glanced at Sam. The other hobbit was already softly snoring. Frodo moved to his own bedroll nearby and tried to rest as well. But his heart would not let him.

Lana repositioned herself against the log she had sat against earlier. Spreading out her new bedroll she wrapped herself in both her hoodie and cloak. It was chilly by the river. A tremor raced through her and she hunkered down trying to conserve heat. She wasn't sure if she would be able to sleep.

"Minas Tirith is the safer road,"

Her ears pricked once more listening in on warriors' conversation. They were still deep in discussion. A movement across the water caught her eye. She saw a gangly looking animal slither out of the water. It wasn't a snake. She saw four limbs, but…she felt her heart speed up at the sight of it.

_Is_ that _Gollum?_ She wrinkled her nose.

"You know that," Boromir continued, almost as if answering her thoughts. "From there we can regroup—strike out for Mordor from a place of strength," he argued passionately.

Lana blinked trying to follow. Boromir was doing his best to persuade Aragorn, but the Ranger seemed to want none of it.

"There is no strength in Gondor that can avail us," Aragorn said without demure.

"You were quick enough to trust the elves!" Boromir gestured towards Legolas vehemently.

The elf stood a ways down river, not too far from where Lana lay huddled. He did not turn nor react, although Lana was certain he could hear every word clearly.

"Have you so little faith in your own people?" The pain of betrayal in Boromir's voice made Lana frown.

She thought Aragorn was from Rivendell—not Gondor. What was Boromir saying? The man's words seemed to touch the Ranger though, and he shifted his weight as if uncertain. Seizing on this chance, the man of Gondor forged ahead.

"Yes, there is weakness, there is frailty—but there is courage also! And honor still to be found in men. But you will not _see_ that!" He accused.

Choosing not to reply, Aragorn made to step away. But Boromir's fist shot out and seized the front of the Aragorn's jerkin. He pulled so that they were face to face.

"You are afraid! All your life you have hidden in the shadows—scared of who you are— _what_ you are!"

Lana's lips parted, her mind filling with alarm and questions. She glanced over at Legolas who was watching Frodo then his eyes shifted to her.

Aragorn jerked away from Boromir angrily. He was not one to get incensed easily but Boromir had pushed him to his limit. Lana could sense the Ranger's aggravation from where she sat. It radiated off of him like heat from an engine. The look he gave Boromir was nothing less than chilling. He growled something in undertone at the Gondorian before turning on his heel.

Boromir watched in despair. Then his gaze caught Lana's. Their eyes collided in a mutual look of distrust, but he broke away first. Shame lurked under the defeat.

Aragorn meanwhile grabbed his quiver and bow and made for the woods at a quick pace. Lana opened her mouth to ask a question, but the man was gone. Glancing at Legolas in askance, she saw the elf merely grip his bow and move after him.

"Stay here," he commanded softly as he paused by her. "We will return."

In a blink the elf was gone, hot on the heels of the Ranger. Lana sat back against the log. Dazed and tired she simply shook her head. All this tension was grating on one's nerves, and none of it had anything to do with her she reminded herself. Stretching out on the ground she watched the river until sleep ultimately claimed her.

o0o

Deep in the night a startled cry made Lana bolt upright. Frodo was sitting up with his sword drawn. Aragorn, who had returned and was asleep, woke as well. In an instant he was on his feet. Rushing to the hobbit he asked what was wrong. Legolas materialized by the Ranger's side as well.

Lana glanced about wide-eyed, disoriented, and rather surprised that she had actually fallen asleep. Rising she tripped unexpectedly, and nearly fell over. She realized that a cloak was gathered around her feet. Not her own for it was still clasped about her shoulders. Someone else's then. Kicking it aside in annoyance she rushed to the others.

"What is it? Why have you drawn your sword?" Aragorn was asking the shaken hobbit.

"Gollum!" Frodo said with wide eyes. "Or at least I thought it was him."

Aragorn sat back on his heels. His face was one of irritation but at himself rather than Frodo. He shared a look with Legolas.

"We tried to catch him during the night, but he is slier than a fox and more slippery than a fish. We will attempt to travel faster tomorrow. Sleep now, all of you," he told the now alert Fellowship. "I will keep watch of what is left of the night."

Frodo sheathed his sword and sat back on his bedroll. Sam was muttering under his breath about how uncivilized it was to be attacked in the middle of the night.

Aragorn moved off to sit on a large rock, his hand poised on his sword hilt. Lana grimaced openly. Only she and Legolas remained standing. He came to her side, and putting his hand on the small of her back, guided her back to where she had been sleeping.

_"Losto,"_ he told her. _Sleep._

Lana wrinkled her nose and wrapped her arms about her middle holding her clock close. "I don't know if I can knowing that _thing_ is out there," she said distastefully. Whatever Gollum was he creeped her out.

"We will protect you. You are weary. _Losto."_

She threw an annoyed look at his persistence but gave in anyway. Settling back down on her bedroll she pulled her cloak about her once more. Legolas stood over her as she felt the chill of the rocky beach seep into her bones. She shivered.

The elf bent over her reaching for the cloak that had been carelessly kicked aside. He draped it over her body then walked away.

In the moments before sleep reclaimed her, Lana watched the elven warrior, his silhouette cutting a comforting figure against the night. Only later did she realize that he was not wearing his cloak.

* * *

_Thoughts? Comments? Questions? Concerns, perhaps? I enjoy hearing from you!_

_Let me know if you happen to catch any typos, grammatical errors, or inconsistencies. I'm hardly a perfect writer, but I strive to give you well-edited chapters._

_As always, thanks for reading!_


	14. Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please read the author's note for disclaimer and explanation of this story.
> 
> I make no claims on Tolkien's works. I also give credit to Cormak3032.
> 
> Thank you all for your reviews! The greatest compliment is to hear from you.
> 
> A quick note: I'm not translating every single Sindarin word or phrase now. I am assuming that by this time you are familiar with hannon le (thank you) and istan/ú-istan (I know/I know not). There is one word that I didn't translate and haven't really used much so I thought I would put it up here.
> 
> Elleth/Ellyth: female elf/elves. And for good measure ellon/ellyn: male elf/elves. If you have questions about the Sindarin or anything at all, send me a message. Cheers!

 

* * *

**Chapter 14: Secrets**

_"You're wasted as a journalist,"_

_She laughed. "But I like journalism."_

_Marie shook her head. "I think you should sing all the time. You could make it, you know. You've got the talent."_

_Lana waggled her brows. "Ya think so?"_

_The warmth of the café shimmered oddly as the walls lost their vibrancy and took on an unpleasant dilapidated feeling. The booth she had been sharing with Marie became a small square cell with walls that had once been orange surrounding them. A shiver ran through Lana despite the heat of the cell. Hands gripped her arms roughly from behind._

_"Are you going to sing today, little bird?"_

_Baffled she looked to Marie. Heart racing she froze. She said nothing to the man as a familiar defiance surged within her. She refused to answer and instead stared straight ahead at the cracked paint in the orange walls. Marie was sitting on the ground now watching with an expectant smile as if nothing was wrong. It was like she didn't see the man who gripped her so crudely._

_"Go on then, sing…that's what you're good at, yes?" The thickly accented male voice said from behind her._

_The touch of a naked blade kissed her throat._

_"That's what you do right? Journalist," the male spat on the ground beside her. "Lies! That's all you sing."_

_He circled her, the knifepoint tracing down her neck to the winged bones above her breast._

_"Sing for me now, sweet bird!"_

_The knife pushed in. Instinctively she drew back but strong hands held her immobile. She started to struggle. Hysteria welled up in her chest. Lana looked to her friend in desperation._

_"Yes, she has such a lovely voice," Marie said, still oblivious to the danger._

_Finding her voice, Lana yelled. "Fuck off!"_

_The man laughed. "You hear that? She sings! Lana the bird!"_

_"Such a beautiful voice."_

_"Let me go!"_

_The knife pricked her skin on her neck, but strangely it was her left arm that was hurting._

_"Sing for me now, little bird."_

_"Yes! Sing Lana!"_

_Lana shrieked as pain bred with fear._

_"Such sweet music…"_

"Lana,"

_"No!" She tried to pull away from the hands shaking her. Throwing up an arm she sought to deflect the knife._

"Lana!"

Her eyes flew open. Seeing a dark haired man crouched over her she nearly screamed. But her vision cleared and she realized who it was and where she was. Aragorn was looking at her with deep concern. She exhaled explosively.

"Aragorn," she whispered roughly.

He finally let go of her arms, which he had to catch in order to deflect her blows. "Are you well?" There was real worry in his eyes.

She pushed herself upright and drew back from him holding her left arm close. She could feel her body quivering; the touch of the knife had felt so _real_. Glancing down she half expected to see her arm pouring with blood. It wasn't. Closing her eyes, she forced back the moisture that had gathered there.

Nodding she said, "Yes…yes, I'm fine."

"You were speaking in your sleep," he said softly, his blue eyes alight with concern.

She grimaced and looked down at her hands. Noticing that they were trembling she folded them together in the cloak folds on her lap.

"I'm sorry; I hope I didn't wake anyone."

"No. It was only as I approached that you were audible. Are you sure you are well?" He looked her over closely seeing that she was still shaking.

Lana nodded firmly. "Just old dreams."

He saw a familiar gleam of rigid determination in her face. Whatever her dreams held, she would keep to herself he knew. While this bothered him somewhat time was of the essence. Dawn was already breaking.

"The hobbits are passing around _lembas_ now. We must pack and then leave." She said nothing but nodded again. "How is your hand healing? You have not spoken of it."

Untangling her right hand from the cloaks that covered her, she held out it to him. She was relieved that the tremor was gone. Gently, Aragorn cradled it in his. He unwrapped it and inspected the wound.

"It is healing well," he said looking at the thick pink scar tissue that was forming. "Does it pain you?"

"Some," she shrugged indifferently. "Whatever that elven healer did to it, it's healing much faster than normal." With caution, she flexed her palm methodically. The stinging pain had been reduced to a dull ache. "Legolas will be pleased to know that I can start archery lessons soon."

Aragorn's smile was thin and it faded quickly. "As much as both you and he would enjoy that, it is not possible now."

Lana frowned. "Why not?"

She had actually been looking forward to more archery. She did well enough with the sword, but she lacked embarrassingly when it came to the bow. And now that she had a bow of her own—and Legolas' to boot—she wanted to use it.

"In a few days we will be at the Falls of Rauros. From there we will decide our direction. By day, we will travel on the river and at night we will rest. There will be no time for lessons."

Lana swallowed. "But I'm not ready for battles. I _need_ more lessons," she insisted as Aragorn dabbed a salve onto her palm.

He bound it up in a new clean cloth. Looking into her eyes, he spoke. "You have learned the sword with me, and Legolas has taught you all the lessons you require for the bow. It is up to you to take those teachings and apply them. Have some confidence for you are a quick learner."

She gave him a less than enthused look. He patted her shoulder. "If you wait too long, Merry and Pippin may eat all the _lembas_ bread." He teased her. "Go and eat. You will need your strength."

Her lips quirked in the semblance of humor, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Fine," she quipped. Then something by the river caught her attention. "I'll go in a minute."

Following her gaze, he saw Legolas standing alone. He gave her a short nod and then moved to gather his things. Now alone, Lana ran a hand through her hair aware that she must look like a bedraggled wild woman from Xena.

Self-consciously she twisted her hair up and held it with a hair stick from her bag. It would have to do for now. Even though she felt dirty and rank, there wasn't much she could do about that. It was too cold to bathe in the river, and doubtless there would no time for such things. Her mind drifted back to the glorious hot baths in Lothlórien. She was already missing them with a vengeance.

Sighing she rose, taking the extra cloak with her. Legolas stood alone, still as a marble statue. The only movement came from the sluggish wind that fluttered in his hair and clothes.

The weather was the opposite of yesterday's. Now cold, foggy and damp, the climate seemed as moody as her mind. Visibility was limited to about fifteen feet. Eyeing the fog she doubted that even Legolas' keen eyes could pierce the gloom.

Slowly she walked up behind him and he turned hearing her approach easily.

_"Aurmaer."_ He bid her. _Good morning._ His smile lacked its usual luster. Lana could see that he was troubled.

_"Aurmaer,"_ she replied in turn. "Are you alright? You look worried."

He sighed. "The mist hinders my ability to see as far as I would want. I must rely on my other senses."

Lana swallowed and cast a wary look at the fog. "Is something coming?" She wanted to know if she should be concerned or not.

"Evil stirs, but I believe we are far enough away at the moment," he said honestly.

"What about that Gollum thing?" She asked, her lip curling in revulsion. "It's still out there." She reminded him.

Legolas frowned. "Aye, but he will not attack us with the odds so against him."

That was a small relief. Silence fell between them, each lost in their own thoughts. The river flowed past them making soft sounds as the water splashed against rocks and roots. In the background, the sounds of the others eating and packing could be heard.

It always amazed Lana how quickly the moods shifted around here. Last evening Legolas had comforted her and they had laughed together. Then the rest of the night and this morning had left everyone on edge. But that was the way of war. And well did she know it.

_"Lostannech maer,"_ Legolas commented softly, breaking the silence. _You slept well._

She gave him a wry smile. "Yeah I suppose…at least as much as I could with rocks for a pillow." She felt stiff all over. There was an annoying ache in her shoulder. A direct result from sleeping on stones. Not the best of mattresses.

He nodded, his eyes searching her face. He could see the vague imprints of the river rocks on her cheek. It must not have been comfortable for her.

_"Ú-lostannech,"_ she told him with slight accusation. _You slept not._

"Nay," he answered evenly though his brow rose in surprise. "How did you know?"

She gestured to their environment. "You're in the same position you were in last night. Right here by this weird rock."

She pointed to the rocky outcrop that hung over the river's edge. It looked like some sort of bizarre dragon. Bringing her attention back to Legolas she asked, "Why didn't you sleep?"

Now that she thought about it, she had never seen him sleep.

"I was not in need of rest," he replied.

He continued to gaze at the miasma, willing it away with his eyes. Lana snorted and was about to tell him that if he didn't rest he would keel over, but a cool wind came off the water distracting her. Tugging her cloak closer to her body, she draped his cloak over his shoulders.

"It's cold," she said when he gave her a quizzical expression.

"I do not feel it," he said unemotionally.

Lana laughed nervously. She felt foolish for forgetting that elves were pretty much impervious to all kinds of weather.

"Well, I'm cold enough for the both of us," she tried to joke, but Legolas clearly missed the teasing note in her voice.

"Wear the cloak. _Ú-voen,"_ he told her. _I need it not._

Taking the cloak from his shoulders, he offered it to her. Lana however shook her head and took a step back.

"I don't need it," she insisted, pushing his hand back to towards him. "I'll be fine once we get moving. Besides, it's yours."

"You are cold. Please, wear it." Legolas countered. He was not blind. He could see her continuing to shiver even though the wind had diminished.

"I'm fine," she told him stubbornly.

With a sigh, he clasped the leaf brooch at the base of his neck. Then taking one side of the cloak in hand, he smoothly pulled her toward him, effectively wrapping it around them both.

Lana's heart jumped in surprise at this action and she immediately went stiff in his embrace.

"I do not mind sharing," he told her with genuine innocence.

A nervous laugh escaped her and she broke away from his embrace. "Legolas, really. I'm fine." She tucked some loose hair behind her ear, not meeting his eyes.

"You are lying to me," he said, sounding both hurt and disapproving.

She looked at him with wide eyes.

"You are shivering," he added as if that proved his point.

And it did. Lana forced herself to stop trembling. "I'm just a little cold. I've stopped shivering now. See?"

The elf frowned, his brows lowering over his eyes. He did not look the least bit convinced.

"The cold is not going to kill me. I'm fine, Legolas. Don't worry." She tried to brush him off, but clearly it wasn't working.

His voice was soft but firm when he spoke. "It is too late. I am already concerned." His blue eyes held hers.

Lana felt her breath catch and her stomach seized into knots. Why was he suddenly so concerned about her welfare? First he had given her his cloak last night and then tried to make her take it again this morning. Now, when she put her foot down, he had pulled her into his arms so that they could share it together.

She didn't know what to make of that. But as quickly as the panic came, it left. His next words made her realize that she was overreacting.

He stepped close and put a hand on her shoulder. "You are my _friend_. I cannot help but be concerned."

Lana exhaled, her body sagging in relief. Clearly she had worked herself up for nothing. Then she smiled gently at him, happy to hear his words. Standing on tiptoes, for he was a good five inches taller than her, she placed a light kiss on his cheek.

_"Istan,"_ she said softly. _"Hannon le_ for all that you have done for me. You are too good of a friend to me." She beamed up at him.

Legolas gave her a bright smile. Happiness welled up inside of him like a forest spring. So unexpected was the joy he felt at the friendship he shared with this mortal woman! The more time he spent with her, the more he realized that he could not imagine returning to a life without her companionship. He felt this way about all of the members of the Fellowship, even though he was well aware of the dangers of growing attached to mortals.

Lana sank back down onto her heels and looked up at Legolas. The fair elf was positively beaming. She felt her heart flutter ridiculously and mentally admonished herself even as she felt her complexion flush.

Legolas watched in amusement as her cheeks turned an even brighter pink than the wind had made them. He smiled at her. Her actions delighted and confused him at the same time. But one thing he was certain of was the mood she had put him in.

After last night's failed attempt to capture Gollum, he had felt a great deal of frustration. That creature had caused him nothing but woe for too long now. He knew Aragorn felt a similar irritation, but it could not compare with his own sense of failure. After all, had it not been tasked to his people to guard the creature? They had failed in that. _He_ had failed. And this knowledge still ate at his conscience.

But now his spirits were lifted and he was grateful to Lana, for with a simple gesture she chased away his dismal mood. Today they would travel further down the Anduin to lands he had only heard of but never seen. And with him would go his friends and this charming woman who, in his mind, revealed herself to be a refreshing breath of purity in these evil days.

After consuming a quick breakfast of _lembas_ bread and water, the Fellowship set out on the river. The Anduin alternated between narrow and swift, to wide and lazy. They traveled on. This day they paddled for longer intervals instead of relying only on the water's current to carry them. Aragorn was determined to make good time, and they were making it.

Most were silent again as they traveled. Lana studied her Sindarin notes for a while. As she did so, she listened to her noisy device. Sometimes her fingers or foot would tap in rhythm to whatever she was listening to. Occasionally she would faintly hum along to a refrain in an abstracted way.

Legolas' strong hearing could pick up the soft music and the singing voices from time to time. Enchanted by it, he called out several times to Lana to ask what she was listening to, but he was ignored each time.

"I don't think she can hear you, laddie," Gimli grunted over his shoulder.

There was impatience in his voice, although it wasn't due to Legolas' attempts to get Lana's attention. He was not pleased with being confined in a narrow vessel on a wide fast river for days on end.

Legolas answered. "I think you are right, Gimli."

Several hours later, Lana gave a hearty sigh and removed her earbuds. The fog had broken, but the skies were grey and looked ominous.

"You sigh so heavily. Whatever is the matter?" Gimli asked curiously.

Lana turned sideways to face the dwarf. Lifting the little contraption she frowned at it. "The battery died. I can't listen to my music anymore." Grimacing she pulled out the portable charger.

This thing wouldn't last much longer either, she mused sadly. Plugging in her phone, she put both items back into her bag.

"I feel like the farther we go the more I seem to lose pieces of my home," she continued sadly.

Gimli cocked his head and then put a gloved hand on her arm. "'Tis true that you may lose some things on the way, but you gain things here as well," he told her.

"Gimli is right," Legolas replied, his soft melodic voice contrasting with the dwarf's thick brogue. "You have gained an entire new world to explore and many new friends who welcome you into their lives."

Lana gave them a sad smile, but she was grateful for their kindness. Suddenly her eyes widened in astonishment. She looked back and forth between the elf and dwarf incredulously.

"Did you two just agree on something?"

Legolas and Gimli looked at each other in shock. Then the dwarf crossed his arms over his chest. "It appears that we have. _Humph!_ Though don't expect _that_ to ever happen again!"

"Indeed!" Legolas retorted. "An elf and a dwarf agreeing? Unheard of!" He cried and then put his full attention on steering the boat.

Lana chuckled. Perhaps there was hope for these two yet.

o0o

The sky cleared that evening and it was dyed a series of pale roses and oranges, gradually fading to indigo. It lifted the Fellowship's spirits after a day of haze and monotone grayness. The air was slightly warmer as well.

There had been no sign of Gollum, but everyone remained on their guard. Aragorn still felt uneasy and knew from experience that a seemingly peaceful mien could be deceiving.

After setting up camp, Lana crept away moving further up the shore to be alone. All was still except for the moving of the river. Removing her cloak she set it on a nearby rock. Then she rolled up the sleeves of her elven-made shirt and crouched by the water.

It was freezing, but she cupped her hands anyways and splashed her face with it. It shocked her out of her stupor. She desperately wished she had a washcloth and soap, but clean water was better than nothing.

Drying her face on the edge of her tunic she sighed. She was about to roll her sleeves down when she caught sight of the jagged scar that blemished her left forearm. It ran from her elbow to just a few inches above her wrist. Crossing it were numerous smaller scars from the stitches that had held the ghastly wound closed.

She touched the old injury, her fingers tracing the depression left behind. The discolored skin still felt wrong to her though it was several years old now.

"That is quite a scar. Were you in a battle?"

Lana jumped at the unexpected interruption of her solitude. Thrown off balance, she pitched forward and nearly fell face first into the water. If it were not for the strong arms that suddenly grasped her and pulled her back, she would have fallen into the river. Stumbling none too gracefully with a grunt into a solid body, Lana quickly found her feet.

Swearing she pushed against the intruder and spun to face him. "What the fuck, Legolas! You can't go around sneaking up on people! Not everyone has super hearing you know!"

Legolas stood in the fading light, his blond hair looking more silver than gold as the moon rose. His fair face held an expression of alarm and apprehension. His eyes were wide and both brows were lifted. He watched as she made hastily for her cloak. Her movements were quick but clumsy. She nearly tripped in her mad dash for the garment.

"Theodore-fucking-Roosevelt," she snarled under her breath as she stumbled.

"I did not mean to startle you. At times I forget that not everyone can hear my approach," he said apologetically wondering why she was behaving like this.

"Yeah, well, don't fucking do it again," she snarled in annoyance.

She fumbled with the clasp of her cloak. Legolas gazed at her in complete puzzlement. He had never seen her like this before. In that past he had approached her unawares, and while she had been startled, she had never acted like _this_.

"I will try to remember to alert you to my presence in the future," he said, as she still struggled to clasp the Lórien leaf brooch at her neck. Stepping forward carefully he touched her arm with care.

"I did not mean to intrude, but Aragorn was worried," he explained softly but with urgency. "You should not wander even if the night is still. _I dhelu mista." It is dangerous to stray._

Lana snorted and gave him a less than enthused look. "Well _excuse me_ for being dirty and wanting to wash my face. You obviously wouldn't know anything about dirt," she shot unreasonably at him.

Legolas frowned. What in Elbereth's name had gotten into her? Why was she behaving like this? Then he realized that she was attempting to divert his attention away from the scar on her arm.

Catching and holding her gaze he murmured, "You are ashamed of that scar." He glanced down at her arm and one of his fingers gently traced the jagged edge of the old injury. Lana jerked away from his touch as if it burned.

"You have no idea what you're talking about," she said darkly. There was a warning in her voice, but Legolas did not heed it.

Feeling piqued now himself, he grabbed her wrist and gently pulled her around so he could look her in the eye. There was deep turmoil there, and a glaring pain. It scowled at him much like a cornered beast. He felt his annoyance drain away only to be replaced with concern.

"You hide it from the eyes of others," he continued in a softer tone, holding her gaze questioningly. Something was wrong and he wanted to help.

"You definitely have no idea. Let me go!" She commanded and pulled on her arm.

Legolas only released her for fear that he might hurt her. He watched as she tugged the sleeves of her tunic firmly over both arms. Then she pulled her cloak around, covering not only the scar but her entire body.

"You conceal it as if it offends you," Legolas said perplexed. Mortals often boasted of their battle wounds. So why didn't she? Her actions made no sense to him.

"Yeah well, it _does_ _offend_ me," she hissed through clenched teeth.

The anger had come out of nowhere. White hot and blinding, and just as suddenly tears appeared in her eyes. She quickly blinked them away, swearing again.

Legolas stood utterly still, uncertain of what to say or do. To assume he was surprised by her actions was an understatement. This was wholly unlike her.

"I did not mean to upset you," he whispered sensitively.

Lana exhaled heavily and some of the tension left her body. Taking a deep breath, she glanced down to where her arm was hidden under the cloak. Then she looked to Legolas. He was looking at her with his bright eyes shining with concern. Slowly Lana began to shake her head.

"Legolas," she said dejectedly. Then she paused gathering her thoughts. " _You_ didn't make me angry." She held his gaze now with more serenity—but the deep sorrow was still present too. "I made myself angry…as did the memory of this."

She gestured to her left arm, hidden beneath the folds of her tunic and cloak.

"It is a reminder of something that happened before…in the past," she admitted with some difficulty.

"Something you do not wish to speak of," the elf sadly understood.

She dropped his gaze, looking away. Her eyes watched the water as if looking at him caused her pain. The fading light seemed to take all the spirit out of her and she was left with nothing more than husk of herself. It was disheartening for the elven warrior to see.

"I'm not ready," she whispered brokenly.

Legolas regarded her now slumped, defeated posture. The immense agony in her eyes was difficult for him to bear. Her anguish swirled around them both like a riptide, and he felt trapped by the roiling of pain, fear, and helplessness. It made him want to reach out and comfort her.

Acting on this urge he lifted his arm thinking to rest his hand on her shoulder, but she backed away again. He quickly lowered his hand to his side. Distress infused his spirit at her refusal.

She had seen the look of pain in his eyes, and it made her guilty. But she couldn't do anything about it. Not now. Maybe never. Shaking her head as tears gathered and she whispered, "I'm sorry."

She brushed past him quickly returning to camp.

Legolas stood as still as a statue. The wind off the water fingered his long hair as he watched her go. He felt a strange emotion that he could not quite place, watching her walk away from him. Dropping his head he sent a silent prayer up to the Valar that peace and friendship would be restored between him and Lana.

o0o

The next day there was tension in the small boat carrying Legolas, Gimli, and Lana. The dwarf could feel it lingering around him, and he bet that he could cut through it with his ax. Something had happened between Legolas and Lana, he was sure of it. But as curious as he was, he did not dare ask what was wrong. His father had taught him to not interfer with the moods of women.

The sighting of many birds to the north around midday alerted the Fellowship to possible trouble. Feeling that they were being watched, it was decided that the company would rest for the remainder of the day. They would continue on under the cover of night instead. Beneath the shade of the few trees and shrubbery that grew on the surrounding landscape, they rested.

All took note of the change in Lana and Legolas. The elf had been more loquacious as of late, speaking a great deal to Lana and to his companions. And she conversed with him quite a bit in return. But now each was silent.

Lana ignored Legolas completely while the elf would cast lingering glances in her direction, waiting patiently for something to happen. But not once did she speak to him.

Aragorn didn't plan on intervening, but he could not stand the tension. It was disrupting and they could not afford distractions—especially not their lookout. He accosted the Mirkwood elf and they spoke softly in Elvish off to the side. Legolas was at first reluctant to tell the Ranger what the problem was, but the man persisted.

"Did you say something that she did not like?" He asked.

While Legolas was extremely well mannered and intelligent, Aragorn knew he lacked when it came to the fairer sex. Once, the Ranger had witnessed two young _ellyth_ formally of Rivendell approach Legolas in Mirkwood.

Thranduil's son had been polite with greetings but ignored the maidens when he realized they were interested in him in ways that he could not, nor wished to, reciprocate. Ever the warrior, Legolas had shunned any nuance of courtship. The interaction ended as a misunderstanding, leaving the elf maidens insulted and Legolas upset that he had offended them unintentionally. Aragorn wondered if Legolas had insulted Lana somehow by accident.

"I do not believe it was words that upset her," the elf finally revealed in a depressed tone.

Aragorn watched as Legolas lowered his head, looking remarkably crushed. He found this behavior unusual. Little did he know that it would only grow worse as time passed.

"Explain."

"Yesterday, you had been worried about her whereabouts so I went in search of her," Legolas began quietly. "I happened upon her as she was washing by the river. A mighty scar on her left arm caught my attention. I lingered on it, but she would not tell me where she obtained it. She became angry and hid it from my eyes."

Aragorn saw the hurt and grief in his friend's face.

"Something has happened to her, Aragorn. I felt her pain and it was not of the body. That sort of pain has long since passed. Another hinders her, deep in her spirit."

"A scar caused this tension between you?" The man couldn't keep the astonishment out of his voice.

"Aye. She acted strangely when I found her, and even more so when I spoke of the scar. She was volatile and unlike herself."

Aragorn glanced to where Lana lay dozing under the shade of a tree. Her back was turned towards them.

"We don't know her well enough to recognize what her true self is," Aragorn admitted sadly.

_"Istan he farn,"_ Legolas said firmly causing Aragorn to lift a brow. _I know her well enough._ "This was not like her. Something happened to her and she was upset that I discovered a piece of her past."

The Ranger sighed. "It might be best to distance yourself from her," he said. Legolas made to protest, but Aragorn held up a hand.

"Let her come to you," he counseled. "When she is ready to tell you what happened—and not before. If you sensed heartache from her she may still be healing from whatever foul deed befell her." He glanced thoughtfully at the woman again. "She has been hiding it well all this time."

Legolas nodded.

_"He estel le, mellon nín,"_ Aragorn said sincerely. _She trusts you, my friend._ He put a comforting hand on the elf's shoulder. "She will come when she is ready."

Legolas nodded again, feeling hope rekindle at Aragorn's words. The man patted his shoulder and then left him to his thoughts. He gazed at the mortal woman who dozed lightly, then shifted his gaze to the east.

There was a darkness hovering in the far distance: a black smudge on the horizon… _Mordor_. Legolas tightened his jaw. There was the Ring to destroy and a long journey before it was all over. His friendship with Lana would mend with time—and the Ring would be demolished.

Hope would not be lost.

* * *

_Thoughts? Like it? Hate it? Want more? Did you find a typo? Let me know!_

_As always thanks for reading!_


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